


Meet Me At The 173

by Pomander



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Borderline Alcoholism, Boss/Employee Relationship, Flirting, Guilt/Shame, In regards to making out while drunk, Insecurity, M/M, Oh boy where to begin, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships, age gap, alcohol use, dub-con, not dadster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 40,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8710366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomander/pseuds/Pomander
Summary: Sans and Gaster get to know each other after work, in the hazy, relaxing atmosphere of a bar. It's a breeding ground for embarrassment and bad decisions.What are the consequences of flirting with your boss, anyway?





	1. It's the little surprises that make life grand.

Science and alcohol mix better than you would think. Well, _scientists_ and alcohol.  
  
One of Sans's coworkers had suggested that they all get drinks together, one night after they were done at work. Everyone but their boss, Dr. W.D. Gaster, had accepted the invitation gladly. After all, they had been working _so_ hard, and a chance to unwind and get to know each other was just what they needed. Sans made a genuine effort to hide his disappointment. Much as he'd appreciate the opportunity to get to know his other coworkers, Dr. Gaster was definitely the most enigmatic of all of them, in a way that was almost enticing.

The doctor said he was a little preoccupied that night, and would have to join them some other time. So they left without him, to a pleasant little establishment on the edge of the capitol, The 173.

They filled the rest of their Tuesday evening with chatter, petty arguments and long-winded stories about their youth. And they found it fun. Or at least, fun enough that they all decided to go out again later that week. Hell, after that, why not make it a tradition?

It was always at least two of them, at least once a week, after that. Sometimes one of the scientists would have other plans, or would have to leave early, and that was fine. Sans liked the company, the idle conversations, the alcohol. Once in a while, he would find himself staying a little later, nursing a strong drink and just soaking in the atmosphere of the bar. He found it calming.

One such night, after everyone else had left, Dr. Gaster arrived.

* * *

 

Gaster searches the bar for familiar faces as the door closes behind him. The place is nice, a bit cleaner than he expected, given the location. One of his employees, a young skeleton named Sans, spots him at the door, and waves, beckoning him over.

"Dr. Gaster? Didn't think I'd ever see you here," says Sans, grinning as Gaster sits down next to him.

"It was an in-the-moment decision," Gaster admits. "I realized I had a little extra free time tonight, and thought I'd pop by. Is anyone else with you?"

Sans's grin drops into an apologetic grimace. "Ah, it was just me and Dr. Larkeet tonight, and she left about ten minutes ago. You just missed her, sorry."

Gaster droops a little. "Damn. I suppose you'll be taking your leave shortly as well?"

"What? Me? No way! If you've got time to kill, then so do I."

"Well then, thank you for your company!” He turns to face the bar. “Bartender? I'll have one of what he's having, please!"

"Oh, wait, hold on! Are you sure? It's got Fernet in it, It's kinda strong," Sans whispers.

"That's fine, I'll take my time with it," Gaster assures him, and exchanges his money for the beverage. He smiles politely, ignoring Sans's worried look, and takes a hefty sip.

_Oh._

Gaster's mouth puckers, and he finds himself scowling, unable to swallow.

_He was talking about the flavor, wasn't he?_

The Fernet remains trapped in the purgatory of his mouth for what feels like an eternity as he weighs his options. He could discreetly spit the liquid back into his glass, or he could swallow it and let it take its toll, but either way, he'll have to deal with the aftertaste. There is no easy way out of this. Gaster wishes for a moment that he could turn back the clock start his life over form the beginning with the knowledge that this would be his greatest mistake, and his downfall. Perhaps, then, he'd pursue a different path. He could take up pottery, or become a carpenter. Anything that didn't lead him back to this moment would be fine-

"C'mon, Doc, you got this," Sans cheers, pounding the bar a little with his fist. "Just, take a deep breath, close your eyes, and swallow it." Though his words are encouraging, the look on his face reads: 'I warned you, man.'

Gaster nodded and clenches his eyes shut, taking the whole of it in one gulp.

"God!” he croaks out, “You _did_ warn me!”

Sans laughs, leaning onto the bar for support. “Sure did. You want me to get you something else?”

“No, I’m- I can handle this. I can. I-” he takes another sip and swallows immediately, letting the burn settle in his throat. “It’s an interesting flavor. The strength of it just...” another sip, “caught me off guard.”

“Sorry, I’ve been told I have strange tastes.”

“Well, I trust that you don’t make friends with liars, at least.”

Silence from Sans’s end. Gaster turns to find the skeleton staring at him, looking so taken aback that he wonders if he crossed a line. He's readying himself to apologize as Sans turns away from him, but is cut off by a loud, wheezing bark of laughter, followed by a quiet “Holy shit, I didn't expect that from you!”

 _Oh thank heavens, he thought it was snarky_. “Clearly,” says Gaster, taking another long sip of his Fernet. Sans probably can't see him smirking behind the glass.

“So, how are you getting along?" he asks, once Sans had settled down.

"At the lab?"

"Yes. I've been a bit preoccupied as of late, and it's not easy to observe you and the other new hires directly, but I trust you're all getting along well?"

"I think so. I find it pretty easy to get along with people. And we keep on task, that's important, right?"

"Do you enjoy your work?"

Sans's face takes on a faint flush. "What kind of question is that? _Geez_ , Doc, you're really putting me on the spot, here."

"I suppose it's a loaded question, coming from your boss in an informal setting. I was curious."

Sans is silent a moment, drumming his fingers on the polished wood of the countertop. "I mean, I don't always like the _work_ that I'm doing, specifically. It's kind of boring. But I'm happy I took this career path. I get to work with monsters like you, who are really making a difference in the underground. Who may even find us all a way out of here. I think that's pretty rad."

"Well, that's a much better answer than I could have hoped for, I'll admit," said Gaster, a sincere smile breaching his face. "But don't sell yourself short, you're contributing just as much as the rest of us."

"Heh. That's what you think."

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing. How have _you_ been doing lately?"

Gaster hums in thought. "Well enough, I suppose. I've been keeping busy, at least." _I've been reorganizing ALL of the paperwork. I am in hell._

Sans chuckles. "Who'd have guessed?"

"Is this what you all talk about when you're here? Idle prattle about the day-to-day minutiae?"

"Sometimes." Sans takes a healthy swig of his drink, flinching visibly at the flavor, before regaining his composure completely. Apparently the bitter taste is something even Sans has yet to fully acquire. "Sometimes we talk about what's going on at work, or in the news. We tell jokes, we tell stories, ask for advice. Depends on our mood, I guess."

"I'm afraid I don't have any of that for you, at the moment."

"Yeah, it's easier when there's a crowd."

"Hm. You seem like the kind of person who always has joke on hand though," he muses.

Sans's grin widens, "Maybe,"

"Ah, never mind, You've probably got something tasteless in store."

"You got me," he agrees, laughing deeply. He picks up his glass and downs the rest of his drink in one go.

Gaster watches in horror. "How do you do that?" he asks, grimacing.

Sans looks down, at least a little embarrassed. "You uh, you get used to it."

"I pray that you don't."

"it's not that bad, I've been building up a tolerance, little by little. I can stand another round or two before I hit my limit."

"How about you help me finish this one first," Gaster suggests, sliding his own drink between the two of them.

"You sure you wanna share a drink with me?" Sans asks, coyly, "People might get the wrong idea. Aren't you married or something?"

"No? I haven't been with anyone for years, what gave you that idea?"

Sans seems to consider this for a moment. "Not sure," he says, finally, "just figured you were spoken for. I mean..."

Gaster scoffs. "If it's because of my age, you can keep that comment to yourself."

"It wasn't," Sans assures him, without adding anything more.

"And what of you?" Gaster asks, turning the question back onto Sans. "Surely, if I _must_ be married by now, an eligible young monster like yourself is already narrowing down his prospects."

"Eligible? really?"

"Well, that's the best word for it," Gaster argues, gesturing vaguely, "You're intelligent, attractive, with a promising career-"

"Geez, you think I'm attractive?" says Sans, "You've got no standards. Most monsters around here do."

Gaster scowls at him. "You know what I mean. Objectively speaking. Aside from your personality, I'm sure you're the perfect bachelor."

"Yeah, okay," he says, sipping from their shared drink, "Well, I don't have any marriage prospects lined up, because I'm not that old-fashioned. Not to say I won't, but I'm taking my time. I've kinda got a crush on someone though."

"Well, there's a start."

"Eh, Not exactly," he says, smiling sadly, "I like him, but I don't think it would ever work out between us. He's a bit older than me, more mature, a total knockout. He's way out of my league."

"What makes you think that?"

Sans's face flushes completely. "He just is."

"No, no. People can be uninterested for their own reasons, but no one's ever 'too-good' for someone else, based on some arbitrary scale like that. You're just afraid he'll reject you."

"Well, I mean, if you wanna be blunt about it."

"I'm being realistic. Test the water, and if he seems open, confess your love, propose, and ride him off into the sunset. That's what I would do."

Sans laughs loudly. "Jeez, you're full of surprises tonight."

"I should hope so. When you get to be my age, you start to worry you're boring people." Feeling bold, Gaster grabs his glass and quickly finishes off their drink, reeling from the bitterness once more. He grins broadly at Sans's awestruck expression, right as the burn hits. "I think that the effects of that poor decision are going to hit me a bit harder than I'd like. I hate to cut our time short, but..."

"Oh, hey, no problem."

They both rise from their seats, leaving behind the warm, energetic atmosphere of the bar for the fresh, open air of the night.

"Thanks for popping in and visiting, Dr. Gaster," says Sans, "Hope you can join us again when the rest of the group's actually here. It's a lot more lively."

"I'll have to try, for sure." Gaster agrees.

"Are you going to make it home okay?"

Gaster watches Sans wobble a bit as they step out into the empty street. " _I'll_ be fine, I've hardly had one drink. I should ask if _you'll_ be okay."

"Who, me? Don't worry about it," Sans mumbles, waving off his concerns. "I'll know a shortcut home." He takes two steps, gives Gaster a little salute, and vanishes into thin air.

"Sans?"

No response. Gaster swings his hands through the air around him, curious whether Sans had actually disappeared or just turned invisible, but there seems to be no trace of him anywhere.

 _How curious_.  _it looks as though we're both full of surprises_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I've never actually TASTED Fernet of any sort, but it's a liquor with a very... STRONG flavor, from what I'm told. Despite that, I guess it's supposed to help with digestion, so it can't be all bad.  
> More to come, soon!
> 
> If you're wondering, this fic isn't related to my other one, Something You Can't Measure, but there probably will be some similarities.  
> (I'm gonna repurpose my OCs)


	2. There's never been a better time to ask than now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little heads up for everyone reading this! First of all, thank you! Second of all, I'd like to preemptively apologize for how this story's gonna play out. I cannot promise a happy ending to this story, but I also can't promise a heart-rending finale that will leave you broken and sobbing. It'll go how it goes, I guess.  
> The main focus of this story is going to be an unhealthy relationship/relationships. Please keep that in mind.  
> Smut's not gonna be segregated to its own chapters, but each explicit segment will be marked with four asterisks: **** at the beginning and end.  
> Alcohol use and alcoholism are going to play a part in this story. Stay safe.  
> The dub-con tag is there because the mixture of alcohol and sex makes consent kind of a muddy issue.  
> Despite the tonal change, I think this is going to be a fun ride. I can only hope that those of you who read this story will have as much fun as I do.  
> :-3

Juneborg is the first coworker Sans spots when he gets to work early that next morning. She's already seated at her desk by the time he arrives, studying the joints of the fingers on her right hand in the light of her desk lamp. Her mandibles click rapidly and she repeatedly turns her hand over and back while she flexes individual fingers. As Sans approaches, her antennae swivel in his direction, but the rest of her attention is clearly still focused in front of her.

"Hey, June," says Sans, "You'll never guess who I ran into at the bar last night."

"Asgore Dreemur," she mutters, "in his bathrobe."

"Nope, you get two more guesses."

She rolls her eyes and sighs at him. "I give up, Sans, just tell me."

He leans against the wall next to them. "The one and only Dr. W. D. Ga-"

"What? No way! "

"-ster. Um, yeah, he showed up right after Dr. Larkeet left. We actually sat and talked for like, ten minutes, before he started getting tipsy and had to leave."

"What a party animal. Jeez, I _knew_ I should have gone with last night."

He laughs. "I know right? Make sure you come along next time."

"Mmmmaybe," she says, "if he's good company."

"Tch. As if any of us are. Nah, he's great though, a real solid dude."

"I'm glad to hear it," calls Gaster, from the stairs

Sans flinches and turns to face him, but the doctor is smiling by the time he reaches the top step.

"Sans was just telling me about your wild night last night," Juneborg tells him, in a sing-song tone.

His head tilts to the side. "I hope he didn't leave out any of the shocking details."

"I may have failed to mention the bit about the graffiti. And what you did to that bench."

"Wait, what? What bench??" shrieks June.

"He's joking," Gaster assures her, "There was no graffiti. Sans, on a more serious note, there's something I need your help with. Can you step outside with me?"

Sans laughs, nervously. "Uh, sure."

He follows Gaster down the stairs and out through the back entrance to the lab. Bracing himself for the worst, he is surprised to find several crates stacked just outside the door.

"Scrap and salvaged parts," Gaster informs him, "among other things. I could use your help moving them inside."

Sans sighs in relief. "Sure, no problem," he said. He steps up next to one of the crates and grabs onto a handle. "Whenever you're ready."

"But first," says Gaster, closing the door to the lab behind them, "How _did_ you get home last night? I've never seen a monster vanish like that before."

"Huh?" Sans releases his grip on the handle. "Oh, that? It's just a little trick I learned when I was a kid. I can kind of teleport, I guess."

"What a practical ability."

"Eh, yeah. Really saved my attendance record in school."

"Oh? Were you not always as punctual as you've been for me?"

"Heh, my attendance record says I was."

"Well, I suppose you're dedicated, then. Goodness knows, even IF I'd been able to teleport, my attendance record in school would have been terrible."

"Did you miss a lot of school?" sans asks.

"In high school, yes. I started taking myself seriously when I got to college. For the most part." He smiles, fondly. "I had my share of fun, back then, too."

"You? Having fun? Dr. Gaster, if people knew, they'd _talk._ "

Gaster chuckles lightheartedly, and somewhere within Sans's ribcage, a thousand eager butterflies spring to life, a swelling swarm of warmth and energy that makes it near impossible to breathe.

"I suppose I'll have to ask you not to tell anyone." He reaches down and takes his handle, motioning for Sans to follow suit. They bring in the first crate, and then the other five, one by one, making small talk while they work. Once all six crates are in the building, Gaster locks the door and releases Sans back to whatever it was he'd been up to, and thanks him for his help.

"Any time," Sans tells him. He walks back up the stairs to the office, sits down in front of his computer, and stares absently at the screen, replaying Gaster's laugh over in his head.

* * *

"And so they declared it illegal to- Cmon' Wickett, I'm almost done, stay with me. They declared it law that no one shall transport young gulls across sedate lions for immortal porpoises!" Sans declares loudly, wiggling his fingers out to either side of his face.

There is a loud collective groan from the table, and Sans's shoulders shake with restrained laughter.

"I can't believe we went through a ten-minute build up for a punchline like that," Professor Wickett grumbles. He is leaned forward against their table, resting his chin in the palm of one lumpy hand. The flame on his head flickers and sputters, though the waxen monster's face remains tight in a scowl. Sans knows he's laughing on the inside.

"You said it was going to be a funny one this time, Sans," Doctor Larkeet jokes, smoothing out her feathers

"I though it was funny."

"You have bad taste." She pokes her tongue out the side of her beak at him, and he returnes the gesture gladly.

"It wasn't all bad," Gaster offers, shrugging, "I think a massive buildup that leads to such a contrived and unfunny climax is a kind of art. The epitome of a letdown. Knowing you've just been had."

"That's because you're being pretentious," June slurs. Larkeet snickers. "Sans, that joke kinda sucked. You should have told him the one about the guy in the circus. The classic."

"Aw jeez, but you guys have all heard that one, already. I'll tell you that one some other time, Dr. Gaster." Sans punctuates his offer with a wink.

"Well, now that that ordeal's over, I really should be getting home," says Larkeet, pushing her chair back from the table. "Thanks for joining us this time around, Gaster. I was worried you were getting a bit too wrapped-up in your work there, for a while."

"Yes, well, I'm glad I came down, as well. You're all great company. I can't believe it's already been four hours since we got here."

"Ah, it's getting late, isn't it?" Wickett agrees. "I should probably go, too."

"You gonna be okay there June?" Sans asks.

She has her chin down on the table, and her antennae are drooping. "I'll be fine," she assures him," I just had a little too much."

Gaster leans in towards her. "Will you need some help getting home?" he asks.

"I'll be okay." She began to snore.

"I'll take you, June," Sans offers, placing one hand on her shoulder. "C'mon, get up and I'll get you home real quick."

"Do you need any help?" Gaster asks, rising from his seat.

"We should be good. I'll be right back, Dr. Gaster. Give me like, three minutes? Four?"

"Oh, does she live close by?"

"Heh, no. C'mon, 'Borg,"

He half guides, half carries her to the door, and together they step out, appearing almost instantaneously in front of her apartment door. Sans knocks gently, and June's roommate answers, surprised to see them there.

"I can take her to her room," they tell him. "Thanks for bringing her home safe."

"No prob, have a good night." He quickly makes his way back to the bar and walks back to his table, relieved to see Gaster still there waiting for him. Pleasantly surprised to find that the doctor has ordered drinks for both of them.

"Welcome back. I hope you like wine," Gaster says with a smile.

"Thanks. It's not my favorite, but you won't hear me _wine_ -ing about it.

The doctor snickers. "I should hope not. It's rude to _champ-laigne_ about something to the person who gave it to you."

 "Heh. You don't _mead_ to tell me that."

Gaster smiles at him. "Your jokes are really lifting my _spirits_ , you know. Coming out here like this was a surprisingly good idea."

"Glad you think so. We usually come down here on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but it's not set in stone, ya know?"

"Why not on Fridays?"

"Fridays the bar gets crowded. It's not conductive to good conversation. Great for meeting people, or drowning your troubles without anyone noticing. Not that I would know." He grins and rolls his eyes.

Gaster gives him a knowing look. "Noted. I guess I'll adjust my after-work schedule accordingly. Goodness, I'm glad Asgore decided to hold off on his quarterly visit to the lab this time around," he says, "It gives us more time to work with, to make sure we get everything right. I can't imagine rushing this process."

"Well, we're mostly just scaling the blaster up from your prototypes," says Sans, "We could have had something ready to show him by then."

"Yes, but I think in the long run, it will have been worth it to take our time. I've learned from experience that, if we're not rushing, everyone's in better spirits. I've found that people work better and make fewer mistakes, the less stressed they are."

"Makes sense."

"Besides, I actually have free time again, now that the Core's finished and the blaster's underway. I don't need to sleep in my office any more, and I can go out like this, it's nice."

"Cheers to that."

* * *

 

Gaster makes a point of showing up to the bar at least once a week, after that. He finds it enjoyable, catching glimpses of those he works with, but in an informal setting. Where they can let loose. Where they are all on equal footing.

He also makes a point to stay a bit later, those nights that Sans is with them, because he knows Sans will remain there alone for hours after everyone has left, otherwise. And he enjoys the young skeleton's company, though Sans always seems to be a bit more reserved when it's just the two of them.

He enjoys the conversations with Sans a bit more than the ones their entire group shares. It is far easier to focus his attention on one person and one topic, than four people, and three and-a-half topics at once. Also, usually by the time he and Sans are alone, he is a fair bit tipsy, and feels entirely pleasant, if not completely composed.

"I really don't think it matters whether you'll ever _need_ to use sign language," Gaster argues, one night, "So long as you know it in case you _do_ need it."

Sans nods his head. "No, you're right. I'm just saying, I wish we'd had more consistent practice with it throughout our schooling, and practice that's focused on utility, because as it stands, I never used most of the signs that I learned, and they just kind of fell out of my memory, because they were taking up valuable space."

"Alright, so what do you remember?"

' _I think you're cute,_ ' Sans signs quickly.

Gaster chortles. "Being able to flirt with someone from across the classroom is a valuable life skill, I'll admit, but surely you remember more than that?"

 _'B O D A C I O U S_ ', he spells out.

' _You have a gift_ ,' Gaster signs back, smirking, ' _genius_.'

"What about this sign?" he asks, gesturing vaguely, "I think it's _sarcasm_?"

"No, one finger to your nose, then cross them- Here, let me-" He gently reaches forward and adjusts Sans's fingers, placing his hands in the correct positions. "There, perfect."

"Thanks," Sans mumbles, drawing his hands back slowly into his lap. He looks uncomfortable.

"My apologies," says Gaster, "I should have asked before-"

Sans cuts him off. "You're fine, I think I'm just ready for another drink. Can I get something for you?"

Three drinks later, Sans is the perfect picture of a mess. Though he isn't making a fuss, he can barely hold himself upright, or keep his eyes open. But boy, is he trying.

"I think it's time we call it a night," says Gaster, rising from his seat. He holds out his hand to the young skeleton. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

"Aw, you don't need to do that," Sans slurs, "I can apparate. Teleport, I mean. I'll be good."

Gaster's hand remains extended. "I insist," he says, gently. "It sounds a bit risky to be using magic like that when you're- well, you know."

' _Plastered?'_  Sans signs.

"Exactly."

After another moment of consideration, Sans finally puts his hand in Gaster's outstretched one, and allows himself to be pulled up from the table, and walked outside the bar. Gaster keeps one hand on the small of San's back, to guide him as they walk. Sans is nearly silent as they shamble along, only opening his mouth to answer when Gaster asks 'which way next?'

Gaster rubs slow, gentle circles into San's back. "Are we getting close?" he asks. Sans stopps walking."Sans?"

Sans's mouth is pulled tight discomfort, but his eyes are half-lidded and hazy. "Can- can I kiss you?" he asks, quietly.

Gaster stills, frozen in place. He can hear his own pulse, and can feel heat creeping up to his cheeks and forehead. "M-me?!" he asks, incredulously, a little too loud for the empty street they're on. He searches around him, checking to make sure no one is observing their current conversation, before turning back to his young employee. "Why on earth would you want to kiss me??"

The flush covering San's face darkens, and his eyelights flick nervously to Gasters's face, away, and back. "I think you're kinda cute," he says, leaning in toward the doctor, "And I really wanna know what it feels like." He leans in further, wobbling a bit. "To kiss you."

"Well," Gaster's pulse quickens. "I um, I don't know what to say." He places his hands firmly onto Sans's shoulders, and pushes him back, slowly, gently, inch by inch. "But I _do_ know that you're very drunk right now, and probably not in the best state of mind. You may have forgotten, after all, that I'm your employer."

Sans stares up at him with barely contained disappointment. "Sorry" he mumbles.

"But," Gaster offers. " _If_ , tomorrow morning, by some miracle, you even remember this conversation, and you still feel the same... Come find me, and we'll discuss it, how does that sound?"

"That... yeah, that sounds perfect," Sans whisperes, with a wide grin. He cooperates with Gaster from that point, taking the lead and practically escorting the doctor to his home. Gaster still keeps one hand on Sans's back to keep him upright, but refrains from rubbing his spine. Or anything that might be misconstrued. Finally, they arrive.

Sans balances against the doorframe, facing Gaster. "Thanks," he says, "For making sure I got home safe. Thanks for looking out for me. I hope you get home safe. Too."

Gaster smiles wryly back at him. "I will, don't worry. Goodnight, Sans."

"Night." he reaches behind him and turns the doorknob, practically falling into his apartment when the door opens. "See you tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow," Gaster agrees. As Sans disappears behind the closed door, Gaster relents to the heat attempting to take over his face. He walks back to his own house in silence, marveling at just how out of the blue that moment had been.

 _He'll probably wake up tomorrow morning with no memory of that conversation,_ he thinks.

_But, if he was being sincere..._

He shakes the idea from his head.


	3. We're all behind you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have noticed that I changed the tense of the story from past to present, which i /think/ gives it a slightly better flow. Sorry for doing that without warning, though.
> 
> Also sorry this chapter took so long to get up. It certainly is a busy time of year, isn't it?

Gaster lays flat on his back and stares at the ceiling above him, silent as minutes upon minutes tick by. He is no closer to sleep than he was an hour ago, his heart is still beating wildly within him. _This is what happens when you aren't used to people flirting with you_ , he thinks, though he insists there's no proof that Sans was actually flirting with him.

_The poor young man was probably just confused._

So he congratulates himself on doing the right thing in that moment. After all, in the morning, Sans would probably be filled with regret at what he had said, and be thankful that Gaster didn't allow him to act on it. Gaster could see it now, the trust between him and his employee deepening, strengthening for having been tested as it was. He had proven himself as someone Sans could look up to and trust, all because he had made a good decision in the heat of the moment.

He wonders, though, about what the outcome would have been if he had made a _bad_ decision. What if he had allowed Sans, who was clearly interested in someone else, to kiss him there in the middle of the street. He brings one of his hands up to his mouth and presses his thumb and index finger to his lips in a mock-kiss. An innaccurate one, as Sans is lacking in the lip department, though he certainly does possess a tongue. A slough of mental images crop up at that thought, and Gaster drops his hand to his chest, scowling. This is not how he imagined his night going. He turns over, willingly ignoring his groin's sudden interest in the events of the night, and resolves not to think on it any further.

* * *

  
Sans stares into the darkness before him, watching it shift and spin as he slowly stirs in an unhealthy amount of sugar. The aroma of the coffee is soothing, and dulls the edges of his hangover just barely, but he's going to need energy to make it through the day in one piece, especially if it turns out he's actually in trouble for... whatever happened last night.

He honestly has no clue, all he has is a bad feeling and a splitting headache to remind him he drank a _bit_ too much.

"Are you going to drink that coffee, or stare at it until it tells you its secrets?" Doctor Larkeet asks from behind him. He jumps, nearly dropping the mug, and spills half his coffee all over the counter. "Woah there!" she says, "Didn't mean to scare you, be careful!"

"Heh, you're fine. Sorry about that," he mumbles. He grabs a towel and quickly wipes up the mess before shuffling away towards the office.

At his desk, he rests his forehead in his hands and closes his eyes, desperately willing the headache and nausea away. It doesn't work, wishing never does. At the very least, he _should_ be able to will away his wariness, but it continues to cling and writhe. He's done something. He can feel it, but has no idea what. He doesn't understand, because while he'd had misadventures, and sexual encounters, and even gotten in fights when he was drunk, he could always piece together those events the next morning, whether he actually remembered them or not. Waking up with a stolen street sign, in someone else's bed, or being covered in scrapes and cracks was pretty hard to ignore.

But this morning, he had woken up in his own bed, fully clothed, and in no pain other than the telltale signs of a hangover. So why does he feel like retribution is creeping up behind him, waiting to pounce?

"How are you feeling this morning, Sans?" Gaster asks from behind him, "You had quite a lot to drink last night, didn't you?"

Sans goes cold, something from the night before comes rushing back for the briefest of moments, before fluttering away. He turns around slowly in his chair.

Gaster is looking at him expectantly, and he knows that's his clue.

_Shit._

"I'm alright," he says, "Just a bit hungover." He shrugs, playing at nonchalance. "How are you?"

"I'm... well," says Gaster.

They spend a moment in uncomfortable silence,

"Good to hear it," says Sans.

"Hm."

"I should uh, probably get to work."

"Yes, I suppose I should do the same."

"Cool."

"Not that I'll be too busy to speak with you, if need be."

Sans's teeth clench tightly shut and he stares at Gaster like an approaching train.

"What I mean is, if there's anything you need to talk to me about, you know where to find me." Gaster smiles and turns away, leaving Sans to his work.

More like, leaving Sans to silently panic at his desk, wringing his memory for any more clues as to what he could have possibly done wrong.

* * *

  
By midday, Gaster is in a bad mood. Disappointed, at the very least, although he knows he shouldn't be. Yes, anything romantic or sexual between him and one of his employees would be highly inappropriate, but he had asked Sans to approach him about it so they could talk it out, and Sans...

Sans is avoiding him.

Whether it's because he regrets what he said, or he doesn't remember what he said, Gaster isn't sure, and that's why he's steadily becoming more frustrated as the hours pass by. At lunch, he decides to gently confront the young skeleton. He finds him up in the office, alone at his desk, and decides to make his move. The moment he opens his mouth Sans looks frightened, like he's been cornered. But by then it's too late to back out.

"I was wondering if you remember anything about last night," says Gaster.

Sans looks away quickly. "Can't say I do, but I've got a feeling I'm about to regret whatever it was."

"Oh! No, Sans, you're not in trouble! That's not why I- erm, how do I put this?"

"Did I say something that upset you?"

"Not quite." Gaster's pulse is racing now, and he's wringing his hands. "You... well... you tried to flirt with me?"

"Oh shit," Sans whispers.

"Which is fine! I mean, it's _inappropriate_ given our positions, but I'm not upset, and you're not in trouble."

"Fuck. I'm sorry."

"I just said-"

"What did I do?" Sans's hands are tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt, and his eyes are locked to the floor in front of him.

"You didn't do anything," Gaster assures him, "Well, I mean you asked if you could kiss me. And you... you told me I was cute. But it was all very polite, you were just extremely drunk, and I didn't think it proper. I made sure you got home safely though. And Sans-"

He waits for the young skeleton to look at him, and the fearful expression carved into the skeleton's face is enough to break his heart.

"Sans, you're not in trouble, and I won't hold it against you. You were drunk and off the clock. It's fine."

"It's kinda not though."

"I'm sure it's not the first time you've done something silly while drunk, and knowing you, it won't be the last." He gets a small chuckle for this. "There was no harm done, but maybe you can take this as a lesson."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you drink far more than any of us, and I'll admit I have my concerns. Maybe this is a sign that you should... limit yourself, in the future? Or at least leave your beer-goggles at home. I'd hate to see you taken advantage of."

"Yeah. Me too." Sans looks down at the floor again. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'm sorry I brought it up, but I thought at the very least you should be aware of what happened."

"Alright, thank you. It won't happen again."

"I believe you. It's alright. Now," he straightens out his lab coat, "I should leave you to your lunch. If you need me, you know where to find me."

"Sure."

Gaster slumps against the wall as soon as he's in the elevator, and lets out a deep, heavy sigh. "That could have gone worse," he tells himself, ever the optimist. But his heart's not in it. Wrong as it was, part of him was put out. For one night, he thought someone found him cute. And it had been such a long time since anyone had shown interest. Part of him wanted that.

_Maybe it's time to get my horse fitted with the dating saddle again. That's what kids these days are saying, right?_

* * *

 

Sans presses his head so hard into his desk that he thinks the two might fuse together, and doesn't care. It would serve him right. He FLIRTED with his BOSS while DRUNK. How stupid can one guy be? And Gaster had played it off like Sans had beer goggles on, like he didn't know who he was talking to. He knew. God, and he'd been slowly working up the courage to flirt with Gaster for weeks, only to be shot down and not even remember it. Good thing Gaster had taken the time to let him know, because he couldn't fucking imagine the embarrassment of failing twice in that endeavor, and being unaware that he had already been rejected.

Oh wait, he _could_ imagine it.

"Are you alive?" June asks as she saunters past him toward her own desk.

"Barely," he responds, "and regretting it."

"Shucks, I was hoping I'd be able to ask a favor."

He pulls his head up and turns to look at her. She's leaning back against her desk, legs crossed, arms crossed, looking cross. "What's up?" he asks.

"My right hand hasn't been working so great lately," she says, "and I need to do some maintenance. Problem is, it's hard to do maintenance with only one hand. Could you maybe-"

"Can I _lend you a hand_?" he asks with a sly grin.

She rolls her eyes. "I was hoping to avoid that exact phrasing, but yes, that's what I need from you."

"Too bad, I'd have said yes instantly if you'd asked it in the form of a joke."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

She takes a deep breath, but Sans cuts her off. "I'll help you out, don't worry."

"Ugh, thank you! My roommate's out in Snowdin for the next two weeks, and I usually have her around to help me with this."

"No problem, when do you need me?"

"Do you have time tomorrow night?"

Sans thinks on this for a moment. Technically he has time, though Thursday nights are usually bar nights, and he's not keen on missing out. But after last night, he wonders if maybe it would be best to take a break, limit himself. Like Gaster said.

"Sans?"

"Yeah, I've got time," he decides.


	4. Raise your hand if you enjoy close company as much as you enjoy a good crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it has been a MONTH. My apologies, the only excuse i have is depre- I mean the holidays! Which are long over, so thank you for your patience.

"Looks like it's just us geezers tonight, eh?" Professor Wickett asks, as Gaster approaches their usual table that Thursday night.

"Speak for yourself," says Dr. Larkeet, "I'm not a geezer just yet."

"We are none of us ' _geezers_ '" Gaster insists, sitting down primly, "Just older than most. That's all."

"Here, here!" Larkeet cheers, "I think it's nice to have some mature company!" She raises her glass.

"Heh, I'll drink to that," Wickett mutters, raising his own.

Gaster hasn't ordered a drink yet, and has nothing to raise in toast. He gives the other two a thumbs up and a lopsided smile.

He appreciates the company of his older colleagues, but occasionally he glances around the bar, absentmindedly searching for someone.

* * *

  
"Pretty high-tech equipment for a home setup," says Sans, as he surveys June's room. "Woah, I don't think we even have one of these at the lab."

"Don't mess with the power-tools, please. I built them and they're very touchy."

"You don't say."

She rolls her eyes and directs him to a table in the corner of the room, on which she's laid a variety of small hand tools and a lamp. Sans sits down on one of two chairs, and June takes the other one on his left. She places her right hand up on the table between them.

"Right, so! I'm gonna walk you through this step by step, so all I need you to do is have a steady hand and listen well, okay?"

"Sure thing," he says, leaning towards her.

June reaches up to her shoulder and fiddles with something just under her shirt collar, and her right arm goes slack. "I've just disconnected the whole arm from my internal energy supply, so you don't have to worry about getting shocked, but the whole thing is useless until I turn it back on." She grabs her hand and flips it over so the palm is facing up. "I'm going to pull back this latch here, and I need you to gently slip that elastic ring off. Gently, there we go."

"So uh, I hope you don't mind me asking..."

"Hm?"

"But did you... build yourself?"

"Oh. Yeah, certain parts. Mostly I've made improvements and adjustments here and there, as needed. Like the laser pointer- here?" she points to a small lense on the underside of her index finger. "That was an addition I made when I moved in with my roommate. It drives her up a wall. Literally."

"Heh, hunting instincts."

"I know, right? But some of this I was born with." She clicks her mandibles slowly. "It's hard remembering what's what sometimes."

"Must be nice, being able to change yourself like that."

She shrugs. "Well, it's- oh, can you get that screw for me while I hold the knuckle in place? Thanks. It's not like I'm actually _changing_ myself, just making little tweaks here and there. Like adding a radio, or improving flexibility." She's silent for a long moment. "If I _could_ change who I am on the inside, that would be cool. Don't you think?"

"Maybe. I guess I don't know a whole lot about you, but I think you're fine, as is."

"Thanks." She smiles as she readjusts one of the elastic ligaments in her finger.

"I think if I could change anything, I'd make myself taller," he adds. "I've got a little brother who towers over me now, it's kind of embarrassing."

"Half of the monsters in the Underground tower over you, just FYI."

"You see my problem, then."

She snickers. "Everyone sees it."

"I could leave."

"But then who would be my right hand man?" She glances pointedly down at her appendage lying on the table, then back up at him.

Sans pauses at that, thinking about it for a moment. She had that pun ready. Had she been waiting to use it? She's got him figured out now, knows his weaknesses.

"You got me, I'll stay."

Their banter draws out the mechanical repairs late into the night. June thanks him when they're done, and asks if he'd be willing to help her again in the future. He shrugs and says 'sure.'

When Sans gets home and lays down, he's worn out, but not tired. Sure, he enjoyed talking to June and helping her put herself back together. He is looking forward to helping her again next time, even. But he missed out on a night at the bar. He wonders who all went tonight, whether Dr. Gaster showed up. He wonders what they all talked about, without him there.

It occurs to him that tonight is the first night he hasn't shown up to the bar, since they all started going. He sits up against the wall by his bed and stares to the far end of the room. He really wants a drink, and the absence of it sits like a dull ache in his bones. But it's far too late to head out. He has work in the morning. He needs sleep.

Begrudgingly, he lays back down, rolling onto his side, and stares at the wall until he can't keep his eyes open anymore.

* * *

 

"Ah, Sans! We missed you at the bar last night." Gaster greets him the next morning.

"Yeah, I was helping June with something," Sans replies. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing of note, unless it's unusual for Doctor Larkeet to perform both halves of a duet."

Sans laughs and rubs one eyesocket. "Nah, usually June's there to sing the other half."

Gaster watches him yawn and half-listens to an account of the last time both women started singing and some other patrons of the bar joined in. It appears to Gaster that his young coworker hasn't had much sleep, judging by the dark circles under his eye sockets. It's an odd thing, Gaster had seen Juneborg earlier that morning and she looked fine. He wonders if there's something else.

"Say, those papers you asked me to fill out a few days ago? I think there are pages missing, near the end." the skeleton says, once his story is finished. "Do you have time to look over them with me?"

"Of course!"

It turns out there is a very large chunk of papework missing between the files they have on hand and what Gaster had printed out, and he's grateful that Sans managed to catch it. They spend about an hour searching through both the printed paperwork and the original files, trying to figure out exactly what's missing.

Through it all, Sans seems to be distracted. Gaster could chalk it up to how tired the young skeleton looks, but with the way he keeps fidgeting, tapping his fingers and looking away, it seems more like there's something on his mind.

"So uh, they done printing yet?" Sans asks, still looking away.

"Two more to go." Gaster studies his profile, the rim of his eye socket, the curve of his nasal cavity. For someone of such a young age, he looks worn. Sans turns back to look at him and he looks off to the side, trying to pretend he wasn't just staring.

The printer begins the last page.

"Got any plans for the weekend?" Sans asks him.

"Nothing special," Gaster replies, "I'll probably just curl up with a good book and refuse to leave my house."

"Always a sound plan."

"How about yourself?"

Sans shrugs. "I might go down to the bar tonight, and see where that takes me."

"On a Friday?"

"Yeah. It'll just be me, unless y- I mean... unless you'd like to come see what the 173 is like when it's busy?"

Gaster thinks on this for a moment. The final page slides out of the printer, and he reaches for it. "That might be interesting. Though, I suppose it's rowdy, I wouldn't be able to stay very long." He hands the papers to Sans. "We'll see how the day goes."

It goes well, almost too well. Gaster finds himself in the groove and in no hurry to get home at the end of the day. He stays an extra hour at the lab of his own volition, just to finish up the firing mechanism he's working on. As he's leaving the lab and is about to finally head home, he remembers Sans's invitation.

 _Fuck it_ , he thinks, _why not?_

He makes his way to the 173. Upon opening the doors and stepping in, he's a bit surprised. It's still a bit early in the evening, and the place is already quite lively. Among the hubbub, he spots the back of Sans's head at the corner of the bar. Making his way over, he slows his pace when he realizes Sans is talking animatedly to a strange monster next to him. Gaster halts, hesitant to interrupt their conversation.

Sans's shoulders are shaking, and he covers his face with one hand as he turns away from the strange monster. From where Gaster's standing, it's hard to tell whether he's laughing or crying. Gaster clenches his fingers around the hem of his sleeve nervously. The strange monster places some money on the counter of the bar, gives Sans a short bow, and gets up to leave. Gaster watches Sans wave them off casually, turning in his seat toward the exit. The monster walks right by Gaster as they leave, nearly bumping into him, probably unaware that they were being observed.

Gaster notes the immediate change in Sans's expression once he's spotted; how his back straightens and the smile on his face ( _he must have been laughing, thank goodness_ ) shifts, looking no less genuine, but much more reserved.

He is beckoned over, and so goes to take his seat next to Sans, in the spot where the other monster was sitting. The seat is uncomfortably warm against his bottom.

"Glad you could make it!" says Sans loudly, straining to be heard over the raucous, "What do you think of this place?"

Gaster looks around them. The bar's not quite packed, but it's very different from how he's used to seeing it. He spots their group's usual table, taken by another party, with a couple more chairs brought over from another table.

"It's... busy," he remarks.

Sans cups one hand to the side of his head and leans in towards Gaster, grinning.

"It's rather loud!" he says, "I'm not sure I like it!"

"It's got its charms," Sans insists. He points up over Gaster's shoulder.

The doctor turns around in his seat. Two monsters are standing in the corner behind him, one pressing another up against the wall. They're... dancing, grinding up against one another. Gaster figures this is a generous term, and one he wouldn't use if they weren't standing upright. He turns back around quickly, feeling a bit hot in the face.

"They-" he points over his shoulder, scandalized. "In public?!"

Sans laughs deeply. "The bartender'll yell at 'em if they get too raunchy, no worries."

Gaster slaps his hands down on the bar and shakes his head. "I need a drink if I'm going to stay here any longer," he admits, "What are you having?"

"Dirty Shirley. It's fruity. Wanna try a sip?" He slides the glass in between them.

"What an odd name." The doctor leans down to take a sip from the straw anyway. The cloying sweetness is almost enough to gag him, but it does cover up the burn of the liquor fairly well. He looks up from the straw to find Sans watching him expectantly. "It's pretty good," he admits. In any case, it's leagues better than the fernet he had the first night he showed up at the bar.

Sans turns and flags down the bartender, motioning to his glass and signalling for two more. The bartender nods. "Oh, hey! Make mine a virgin, please?" he asks as an afterthought. He's blushing when he turns back to the Gaster. "I've decided to take your advice and uh, limit my intake a bit. When I'm in good company, anyway," he adds with a wink.

"I'm flattered you consider me such," says Gaster.

"I was talkin' about those two in the corner, but you're pretty good company, too."

Their drinks are placed in front of them before Gaster can quip back, and Sans is already near doubled over, leaning on the bar, laughing. Gaster looks up to the ceiling and shakes his head, but he's smiling, and he has to admit that was good.

But when he looks back down, his eyes accidentally drift to San's neck instead of his face, and he notices for a brief moment that the young skeleton's shirt collar dips down, exposing a section of collarbone, and the dark hollow beneath it. His gaze climbs slowly back up to its intended place, taking in along the way the motion of Sans's shoulders, the individual vertebrae of his throat, and the way his hand cups around his jawline as he rests his face against it, all unintentional distractions from...

His eyes, he's watching Gaster again.

The doctor's face is frozen in a smile, mid laugh, but he can't bring himself to say anything.

Sans tilts his head.

"That... that was a good one, you got me," he says, letting out a single breathy puff in place of a laugh.

He turns his attention quickly to his drink and takes a long sip. A familiar warmth spreads to his face, to his gut, to every limb, and he'd like to blame it on the alcohol.

The couple from the corner walks past him, holding hands and shooting each other meaningful glances all the way out the bar.

He'd _really_ like to blame it on the alcohol.

 

 


	5. It's not a problem unless you make it one!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that advice they always give to writers? Write what you know?  
> I know a lot about fantasizing about Sans.
> 
> Three things to note:  
> I tend to write Gaster as having a fleshy body that's skeletal in appearance, rather than being a full-on skeleton. He's probably a mix of skeleton and a few other things. Maybe even a diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiistant cousin to Sans. 
> 
> Also, for the purposes of this story, Sans and Papyrus have two moms :-3
> 
> Finally, if you want to skip the smut in this chapter, it is sectioned off between eight asterisks. **** mark the beginning and the end ****

Gaster manages to get out of the bar after one drink, leaving Sans to whatever he was planning for the night. He politely refuses the offer of a shortcut home, unsure he can handle being in any close proximity to Sans before he has the chance to get his thoughts sorted out.

He was aroused by just an unexpected _glimpse_ of Sans's neck and shoulder.

He tries not to think about it on the walk back to his house.

But he does think about it.

He distracts himself with a quick, easy dinner.

But then he's thinking about it again.

And he's lying awake in bed, stripped to his underpants because he's too warm, and stuck picturing what the rest of Sans's body must look like, while trying to imagine what sort of scenario it would take for him to even see it. His curiosity on the matter begins to cross the line into fantasy, and his body responds accordingly.

He knows the more he thinks about it, the worse it's going to get.

But getting rid of his arousal is an easy fix. And perhaps, at least for the night, he can put this out of his mind. He sighs and his hands dip down under the blanket.

****

Gaster lets his fingers trail gently over his chest and the jut of his hip on the way down to his groin.

His prick twitches, eager for the attention, erection straining against the precum-soaked fabric of his underpants. He wonders for a moment what Sans would think of Dr. Gaster, his boss, fantasizing about him.

 _Well,_ he rationalizes, _Sans isn't ever going to find out._

He slips his fingers under the elastic waistband and down around the base of his cock, giving it a gentle squeeze. He pushes his head back into his pillow and sighs at the little ripple of pleasure that sends through his body, and his mind sets to work on constructing a playground of images and sounds for him to dally in while he touches himself.

Gaster pictures gently pushing Sans up against the wall of the washroom at the bar, sliding his hand under the skeleton's shirt to explore his body, and pressing their mouths together in an eager kiss. He doesn't know whether Sans is completely skeletal, or a mix much more like himself, but he allows himself to imagine stroking the inside of Sans's ribcage while he kisses him. In his imagination, Sans is a bit taller, and Gaster doesn't have to bend down to kiss him. In his imagination, San's is _just_ as eager to touch him.

The fantasy shifts into slightly more familiar territory as Gaster imagines those skeletal hands, that he _knows_ the feel of, sliding over his body, scraping gently over his belly, digging into the flesh of his hips. Gaster can't wait to feel them wrapped around his- oh god, he's close.

The scene changes, and Sans is in Gaster's bed, riding him. Gaster doesn't care how it would be possible. His heel digs into the sheets. He pulls Sans down closer to him, and presses his mouth to Sans's neck, letting his tongue drag over each vertebra slowly, as if he were counting them. He suckles at the base of San's jaw.

Gaster squeezes his cock, hard, and brings his free hand up to cover his face, palm over his mouth to muffle any sound he might make. In his mind he hears Sans's deep, rumbling voice saying his name. The sound warps and distorts until it's a drawn out moan, a breathless whimper begging for more.

He comes. The fluid soaks into the front of his briefs and runs down over his fingers while he keeps his hold, riding out his pleasure with deep, rapid breaths.

When the last of it is over, he releases his cock and pulls his hand out of his underpants, and wipes his fingers off on the side of them, where they aren't already soaked in the stuff. He's tired now, but he has enough energy to get out of bed and slide them off. Into the hamper they go, and he lays back down under the covers.

****

He enjoys his moment of relief thoroughly as he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

 

Sans teleports home at much too late an hour. His head is heavy and clouded, and he's covered in spilled booze and the sweat of a stranger. He's too tired to undress, and there's no sense in turning on the light, so he feels his way over to the bed, pulls back the covers, and tosses himself down with all the grace of a dizzy toddler.

A weight shifts in the bed next to him, someone turns over, and Sans, bless his heart, doesn't have the reaction time necessary to scream in panic before he hears his brother's voice.

"Sans? Get out!" He feels a thud against his chest, and another against his back as he hits the floor.

"Paps, what the fuck?" he slurs.

"The bottom bunk is mine now and you don't even live here anymore!" Papyrus whispers loudly. "And yet! This is like the fifth time you've done this!" He sits up and looks down over the edge of the bed at Sans, glaring at him with dark eyes. "If you're going to show up here without warning _every_ time you get drunk, you can sleep on the top bunk. Or better yet, the couch, since you reek."

"I don't show up here every time I'm drunk," Sans argues, weakly.

Papyrus ignores him, and lays back down, forcefully. "I'm your baby brother, not your babysitter," he mumbles quietly.

Sans sighs and pushes himself up off the floor. He knows he lacks the coordination in his drunken state to climb the ladder to the top bunk, so for now, the couch is his safest option. He mutters an apology to his brother as he slips out the bedroom door, and makes his way to the living room.

Hours later, he's woken by his mother's voice and a few firm shakes of his shoulder.

"Sans, dear, wake up. I made breakfast."

"Mama?"

Mollig, his tall, chubby, non-skeletal mother, folds her arms as she stares down at him. "Goodness. Papyrus told me you showed up drunk again last night. You look like hell, dear."

Sans rubs one of his eye sockets and spends a few moments blinking, trying to adjust to the light of the room. He has precious little time before the throbbing headache and nausea set in, and he silently uses it to focus and try to piece together the events of the previous night. He vaguely remembers talking to Papyrus, but he's not entirely sure how he ended up back here instead of his apartment.

"Will you come eat?" Mollig asks. "Verdie's just hopped into the shower. You can use it when she's done, but until then, see if you can hold down some waffles."

He nods slowly and gets up from the couch, following her to the kitchen. Papyrus has just finished eating, and is rinsing his plate. He sets it in the sink loudly. Sans winces.

"Thank you for breakfast, Mama," he announces. He shoots Sans a look and leaves the kitchen without another word.

Sans accepts the plated waffle Mollig hands him an sits at the table wordlessly. He puts a small dab of butter in the center, and carefully pours syrup into alternating holes on the waffle, forming a checkerboard pattern.

Mollig sits down across from him and watches him silently. He keeps going, waiting for her to say something. He knows she wants to say something.

"How much did you drink last night?" she eventually asks.

Sans puts the bottle of syrup down. "The thing about that... is that once you're drunk, it's a bit harder to keep track."

He gets a dry, insincere chuckle from that. "Maybe you moved out too soon; you keep coming back here. This is, what? The fourth time this has happened? Papyrus says you show up every time you get drunk, and you forget that you gave him the bottom bunk when you left."

"The fifth, apparently. And I don't come here _every time_ I get drunk, that would be ridiculous."

"That's not reassuring. What I take away from that is that you're getting drunk even more often than the nights you spend here. You've only been away for a few months, and your mother and I are worried about you all the time."

"There's not a whole lot to worry about, I'm doing fine. Besides, it's not like I'm drinking to drown my troubles or anything like that. I just go to the bar to hang out with my coworkers, and to meet new people," he assures her. He picks up a large chunk of the waffle with his fork and shoves it into his mouth, which he hopes she'll take as a sign that he's done talking about this.

She takes it as a chance to talk without being interrupted.

"Verdie's friends with this one bartender who says he keeps seeing an awful lot of you. Several times a week, late into the night, often by yourself. And that's just at one bar."

Sans glares at his waffle.

"And I don't care _why_ you drink, Sans, that's not the point. Hell, after a really bad day, I treat myself to a glass of sherry, I'll admit it. My concern is how _much,_ and how _often_. Your-" She turns around to look behind her, down the hall, at the washroom door. "Verdana's father had a similar problem, and Verdie herself struggled with it when she was your age."

He swallows his waffle, ready to quip back, but Mollig's faster.

"And I'm not saying it's an actual problem for you... yet."

The washroom door clicks open, and a large cloud of steam billows out.

"But watch yourself," she adds, in a lower tone.

Verdana, Sans's short, sharp, skeletal mother, approaches from down the hall, garbed in her bathtowel. Sans can still see the steam rising off of her bones when she approaches the table.

"Ahhh! Two of my favorite people! Good morning," she says, leaning over to plant a kiss on Mollig's cheek. "Where's the third?" she asks, looking around.

"In his room, brooding over his lack of privacy," Mollig says, sweetly.

"Ah, yes, that's right." Verdana turns to Sans. "You showed up drunk off your ass again last night, didn't you, Sansy?" She grins at him, despite the edge to her tone. "You can't keep bothering Papyrus like that. He's your baby brother, not your babysitter."

Sans takes another bite of his waffle, without a word.

"I mean," she continues, "We love having you back home, but it's a lot harder to spend quality time with you when you're hungover. Try showing up sober, some time." She winks at him and turns away from the table, back down the hall towards her and Mollig's bedroom. "Shower's all yours, by the way, smells like you need it!"

 


	6. An empty seat is an invitation, after all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo hOOOOOOOOO  
> Rag--Tag, on tumblr? Drew this amazing thing inspired by this story (and I think I know what song):  
> http://rag--tag.tumblr.com/post/156758821662/ice-cream-salad-remember-that-time-a-little  
> ^^^^ mmm. The good stuff. I'll edit that into a proper link when i'm not falling asleep at my keyboard! 
> 
> As always, thank you for your patience! <3

"Good morning, Sans."

"Mornin', Doctor Gaster."

Sans is donning his labcoat as Gaster comes through the door on Monday. He watches Gaster's eyes travel slowly over him before flicking away.

"How was your weekend, Sans?" The doctor slips his coat over his shoulders, and Sans watches deft fingers smooth out the collar behind his neck.

"Not too bad, I guess. How about yours?"

Gaster turns back to face him, smiling. "Rather well, I suppose." He gives the skeleton another once over, and strides away. "We have a lot to do today."

Sans doesn't get a chance to ask him about the book, or anything else. He settles for a long look at the doctor's back as he glides away.

* * *

  
The long, busy workday provides enough of a passable distraction that Gaster wastes only the first thirty seconds of the morning fretting over the fact that he had previously been fantasizing about Sans. After an awkward greeting and smooth exit, he's free to concentrate on what he knows is truly important in life:

_Weapons-grade laser beams._

He is, in fact, so passably distracted that he doesn't think anything of reaching over Sans's shoulder to grab a handful connecting ports off of a high shelf. It is only when his fingers wrap around the desired top-shelf equipment that he also feels Sans's shoulder pressing into his abdomen, and glances down to see two bright white lights staring back up at him.

They share a moment where the amount of embarrassment each feels is completely equal to the amount the other feels, though neither knows it.

"E-excuse me," Gaster mumbles, as he takes the connecting ports and pulls away. "I didn't see..." he trails off and takes off with long strides, leaving Sans to fill in the blanks.

_Weapons-grade laser beams. Right._

_Focus, Gaster._

* * *

 

Sans makes it through the day without combusting, which he figures warrants some sort of award. His shoulder still tingles where Doctor Gaster just... _pressed into him_ , without a word.

Tuesday passes much the same as Monday, save for the humiliating close contact. Sans works closely with Dr. Larkeet and goes out of his way not to cross paths with Gaster. He's trying to get over his crush, he really is.

  
He's eager to get to the bar at the end of the day, but when Gaster is the only person that shows up to join him, he's hesitant to enjoy himself. He sips his drink slowly, letting his eyes drift everywhere in the bar _but_ to Gaster.

"Well, Sans, now that things are picking up again at the lab, how are you keeping up?"

"I'm doing alright, how about you?" Sans answers, without even thinking. His eyes are locked on someone walking by.

"I'm... well..." Gaster trails off and Sans allows himself a quick peak at the doctor's face. Great, HE'S looking away, now. Gaster looks back, and their eyes meet for two whole seconds before Sans looks away again. "I'm kind of curious," Gaster finally says, "How did things go between you and your mystery man?"

All of Sans's attention turns back to Gaster. "My what?" he asks, carefully. He has a vague idea what Gaster's referring to, but he'd like to make sure.

"You know, that lovely gentleman you told me you were pining for a while back. Have you finally confessed your undying love? Are you two engaged? Wedded already?" Gaster raises and lowers his eyebrows, rhythmically.

"Oh, that." Sans laughs and rests his forehead in one hand, his other hand remains tightly clutched to his drink. "I uh." Gaster is looking at him expectantly. "He turned me down gently, it was really polite."

"Oh." The doctor's face falls. "I'm sorry to have brought that up."

"Nah, it's cool. He was really classy about it." Sans takes a long sip from his drink, to avoid elaborating further.

"Well, that sounds like his loss, to me," says Gaster.

"Thanks." Coming from the guy who turned him down in the first place, it doesn't make Sans feel any better.

"I know no one ever wants to hear that they've got time, but... you've got time." Gaster raises his glass. "Here's to the... oh, probably _dozens_ of monsters here in the Underground who'd be happy to have you."

He says it with such a sincere smile that Sans can't help but smile, too. He raises his own glass. "What about you?" he asks.

Gaster thinks for a moment. "Here's to hoping I've got time," he says with a wry grin.

"Cheers."

Their conversation blooms from that point. Sans offers to buy the next round of drinks, forgetting his promise to limit his intake in Gaster's presence. But the doctor doesn't object, and even buys him a drink after. They spend the next hour talking, mostly about work, but manage to meander their way back to where they started.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Gaster tells him, face flushed, clearly tipsy, "but I really do think you have this way about you. It's charismatic, magnetic, even. You draw people to you."

The alcohol, by this point, is catching up to Sans as well. "Heh, too late, Doc. I've taken that the wrong way and ran with it. You're obviously smitten with me, and can't think of anything else."

The doctor laughs. "Well, I suppose that's true. I'm absolutely enraptured with you. But the wedding will have to wait until we get to the surface." He downs the rest of his drink. "I'm afraid I wouldn't make a very good husband, 'til then; I'm far too focused on my work."

Sans leans in toward him, smiling. "Don't worry, Honey, as long as you make time for the kids, that's all I need to be happy."

"Of course, Darling! I'll have them test the radiation shields on the Core." Gaster leans forward as well, bringing one hand up to rest his head in. With the other, he trails a finger along the rim of his glass.

At that, Sans can no longer keep a straight face. "Thank god they'll be good for something," he wheezes, "I was worried they'd turn out like me!"

Gaster pulls away, laughing. He looks so happy, and Sans's chest feels tight at the sight of it. He feels a bad decision brewing, like he's ready to make the same mistake twice. Then comes a familiar voice from across the bar, pulling him out of his fixation.

"Well, if it isn't Doctor Dingus!" a woman's voice calls loudly to them, "And my darling son! How nice."

Sans and Gaster both quickly turn to face their visitor.

"Hello, Wingdings," another voice says, softly.

Scratch that, _visitors._

* * *

  
Gaster quickly rises halfway out of his chair in greeting before he remembers that a visit from these two doesn't warrant such etiquette. Manners are for encounters that are _pleasant_ or _important._ Even in his drunken haze, he predicts this intrusion will be neither.

"Mollig, Verdana," he mutters, "It's... been a while."

"Years," Verdana corrects him, "I don't think Either of us have actually spoken to you since graduation. Though I doubt you've changed much in all this time." She turns away from Gaster, towards Sans. "Sansy, do you mind terribly if Mollig and I sit here?"

Gaster watches Sans scrunch in on himself. "What are you doing here?"

"We're on a date," says Mollig, stretching one long arm to wrap around her... girlfriend? Wife? Gaster isn't sure. "And since you come here so _often_ , we reasoned it must be a pretty special place."

"I suppose though, that if your boss is inviting you and your coworkers out drinking every week, that might play a factor. What an example that sets," Verdana adds, looking around. She pulls out a chair for Mollig, and one for herself, and suddenly their table feels much more crowded than Gaster thinks it has any right to.

He opens his mouth to object, but Sans beats him to the punch. "This wasn't Dr. Gaster's idea, he's only started joining us out here recently."

"Thank you, Sans."

"So, what would you recommend?" Mollig asks, cocking her head to one side. "You look like you've had a lot of something, so it must have been good."

"I've had ONE beer."

"Now _that's_ a lie."

Gaster points toward the exit. "Should Ieave? This seems like a family matter."

Sans shoots him a silent, terrified look, and Gaster's honestly surprised the poor boy hasn't collapsed in on himself.

"Yeah, go for it," Verdana sighs, leaning back in her chair.

"Pardon me, then. Sans, I'll see you in the morning at the lab. Have a good night, you three."

"Same to you, _Wingdings_ ," Mollig says with a smile, "I hope we can catch up some time."

Gaster rises from his seat and exits the bar quickly, pausing outside the door to take a deep breath of the open air.

The night had been going so well. He and Sans were in a good mood, things were pleasant. Gaster had been two steps away from inviting Sans to the washroom, to see whether his fantasies from the weekend would play out. Granted, that would have been a terrible idea, but it was a terrible idea he was sure Sans would have agreed to, for a moment there, and now the mood was gone.

Perhaps he had been reading things wrong.

_It's a good thing they showed up when they did._

* * *

  
Sans slips home at the first opportunity, to get away from his mothers and their transparent gripes about his drinking.

He sleeps, though not well, and in the morning braces himself for Dr. (Wingdings???) Gaster's reaction.

But he doesn't see the doctor there.

* * *

 

Gaster wonders what he did to deserve such bad luck. First, old college drama decides to catch up with him, then a part of the Core malfunctions, leaving him and Dr. Larkeet both out of the lab to fix it. Larkeet estimates the repairs could take all day. Great.

In fact, they go into the next day as well.

When Larkeet asks him midday if he wants to get a drink after work, his immediate response is "Hell. Yes."

Juneborg, Sans, and Wickett are already seated when the two of them arrive, later that day. And this, Gaster realizes, is perfect. All he has to do is wait for the others to leave, and he can try his luck with Sans one more time. Their crew makes small talk, and he sort of listens and joins in. Mostly, he's planning what he'll say once they're gone.

To his dismay, Sans is the first to finish his drink, and bid the others farewell for the evening.

"Wait!" Gaster says, quickly standing. The whole table turns to stare at him. "I-I should go, too. I'll join you on the way out. Just a moment, please."

Sans nods and waits silently while Gaster chugs the rest of his beverage. The doctor waves goodbye to the rest of their group, and steps up behind Sans to follow him out of the bar.

"Sorry about the other night," Sans says quietly, once the doors have shut behind them.

"You're quite alright," Gaster assures him, "Only, I hope you weren't in trouble of some sort."

The young skeleton shrugs, looking away. "I'm an adult. What are they gonna do, ground me?"

"I used to know them, your... mothers. Considering Mollig's creativity, and Verdana's ruthlessness, I'm sure they'd think of something."

"Heh. Yeah. That's... weird, that you know them. Anyway. Do you want me to take you home?"

 _Very much so._ "If you don't mind."

"Not at all." Sans holds out his arm, and Gaster links it with his own. "Close your eyes, and step forward with me, on the count of three, alright?"

"Sure."

"One, two," on three, Gaster steps forward and feels an intense wave of pressure brush by him. He opens his eyes in surprise to find that they're already at the gate in front of his house.

"Wow. Thank you," he says softly.

"Any time. Have a good ni-"

Gaster grabs hold of Sans's wrist. His grip is gentle, and he doesn't pull. It's just enough to get Sans's attention, halting him.

Sans looks down at Gaster's fingers around his wrist, then up at Gaster's face. "Somethin' you need, Doc?" he asks.

"Well... I um," Gaster forgets what he was going to say in this moment. His pulse is racing, and he's worried he's made some sort of dreadful mistake, but...

But Sans isn't pulling away.

Fuck it. It's worth a shot.

"I've been wondering, for a while now, about that night you asked to kiss me."

He watches Sans's posture stiffen. There's still no effort from either of them to move away from the other.

"I wonder," Gaster continues, "How that might have played out."

Sans's face flushes with color. "Heh. You want a demonstration, or something?" he asks. His voice is shaking almost as much as he is.

"If you don't want to-"

"C'mere."

Gaster steps forward to close the distance between them, and leans down until their faces are level.

Sans leans in and presses his closed teeth gently to Gaster's cheek. He hears the gentle click of Sans's tongue behind them. It's charming, chaste, and sweet. It makes Gaster's heart race, all the same.

"Mystery solved, thank you," he whispers, pulling back the slightest amount. His face is hot enough to cook off of, and he can feel tiny traces of warmth radiating off of Sans. The total heat of it all is overwhelming in a good way, spreading throughout the rest of his body.

"Can I get one from you?" Sans whispers back.

Before Gaster can think of a response, his hands are already cupping Sans's Jaw and shoulder and their mouths are meeting, lips to teeth. The feeling is electric, intoxicating, and god, he already wants more. Sans reaches up to hold onto his arms, keeping him within reach, and he gently sticks out his tongue, presses it in just under Sans's top teeth.

Sans whines and grips Gaster more tightly, pulling him even closer, and slides his own tongue along the doctor's top lip. The sensation makes Gaster shiver, and _whoopsie-daisy_ , there's no way in _hell_ this kiss is staying chaste now.

"Wooo hoooooo! Get some!" a voice calls from somewhere.

They pull apart, breathing heavily, and Gaster scans the area. A small group of monsters is passing by in the distance, cheering them on. He rolls his eyes.

"Sans," he whispers, "Would you like to go somewhere private?" He tilts his head toward his house.

Sans looks up at him, positively shaken, and Gaster's heart throbs. His everything throbs, and he prays for a _'yes'._

"So uh, listen, Doc."

 _Oh no_.

"Any other night, I'd be all over your lap like hot coffee, believe me. I mean, fuck." He shivers.

Gaster pulls away.

"But my brother's got this recital tonight, 's the whole reason I was leaving the bar early. And I really, really want to miss it, but I can't." His expression looks almost pained as he turns away from Gaster, eyes cast toward the ground. "If there's any way you'd take a raincheck on this..."

"Certainly."

Sans jerks his head up to look Gaster in the eye. "Really?!"

Gaster shrugs, unsure of how convincing he is at playing it cool right now. Because cool is the last thing he's feeling. "I can't promise I won't have come to my senses, later, but... a rain check sounds doable."

"Thank you. Fuck, thank you! I'll see you tomorrow, if nothing else." He gently takes one of Gaster's hands and presses his teeth to it, before stepping away and vanishing.

Body tingling, face burning, Gaster heads into his home and throws himself onto the couch.

_I did it. I kissed him._

_Holy hell._

_If he tells anyone though..._


	7. Thank you for your patience and understanding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-3

Sans's phone vibrates in his pocket while he's out on lunch break, early Friday afternoon. He's received a text message from a number he doesn't recognize.

' _ **There is a folder on your desk that I need brought to my office** ,_' it says, ' ** _the sooner, the better._** '

_Gaster._

He saves the number for later, his heart is racing. Sure enough, when he gets back to his desk, there's a thick manila folder there. He grabs it and tucks it under his arm, heading straight for the lower labs, toward Gaster's personal office. Knocking softly on the door, he waits for a response.

"Come in," Dr. Gaster answers from the other side, "it is unlocked."

Sans steps inside and closes the door quietly behind him.

 _There is a bed inside Gaster's office_. More specifically, a small cot. It's the first thing Sans notices when he steps through the door, as it sits up against the wall directly to his right. To his left, Gaster is sitting at a large, cluttered desk.

The door shuts quietly behind Sans, and the doctor rises from his seat. In the small, dimly lit office, with a tousled little bed just a meter away, Gaster's height is much more intimidating than Sans would ever admit out loud. Tall, Intimidating, and attractive. Sans already knows he has a type.

"You needed these?" he asks, offering the folder to Gaster. His voice feels too tight, and comes out higher than he would like.

The doctor reaches for the folder and sets it carefully on the desk next to him. "Thank you," he says, simply. The smile on his face is restrained, a polite formality.

"Anything else?" Sans glances over at the bed, he can't help it.

Gaster draws in a shaking breath. "I was actually hoping for a word with you, to ask you something, if you don't mind." He sighs and moves to sit down on the edge of the bed, slumped over with his hands on his knees.

"I'm all ears, Doc."

"Do you _really_ want this?"

Sans takes a moment to really think about that before he answers. The man he's been pining over for weeks sits before him on a bed, in a closed office, and with flushed face and heavy breath, legs parted just enough to show what's on his mind, and he's asking if Sans is sure of what he wants.

"I think I _really_ do," he says, stepping forward until he and Gaster are only inches away. "Do you?"

"Yes," Gaster responds, immediately. Sitting down his face is level with Sans's, and without further ado he reaches around Sans's back and pulls him close, kissing him on the mouth.

It feels like roaring flames are sweeping over Sans's bones as they make contact. He parts his teeth, and at once Gaster's tongue slides into his mouth and they pick up where they left off the night before.

Gaster pulls away from the kiss, panting, and lets his lips brush along under Sans's jaw, toward his neck. His hands move from Sans's waist to just under his tailbone as his tongue darts out to lick across the spaces between Sans's vertebrae.

"Heh. Awfully fresh," Sans whispers with a grin. He reaches up for Gaster's coat collar and grips tightly, holding on for dear life as the doctor's tongue presses more firmly onto his throat. Gaster's hands keep moving lower, until they're mid-femur, and before Sans can wonder what the hell Gaster's up to, he's lifted quickly into the doctor's lap.

It's at that moment that he feels something he hadn't noticed before, pressing up against his pubic bone. He looks down to find a sizeable tent in Gaster's trousers, and back up to find that Gaster's mouth has contorted into a lascivious grin. "Sorry," Gaster whispers, looking away.

"Sure, I bet you are." Sans grinds downward, rubbing into him, and grins as Gaster tilts his head back and breathes out deeply. The doctor's left his neck exposed, and it's Sans's turn to have a little fun. He gives Gaster's throat a little peck with his teeth before opening his mouth and roughly running his tongue up the side of it and biting down roughly into the flesh.

"Oh god," Gaster breathes. "Fuck. Please." He wraps his arms around Sans, pulls their bodies closer together, tightly. Sans feels him tremble with each outward breath.

"Y'wanna?" he asks lowly, his mouth still wrapped around the side of Gaster's throat.

"Y-yes. Yessss."

The doctor releases his hold, and leans back to push his hands up the front of Sans's shirt. Sans closes his eyes and Gasps when he feels warm fingertips running along his lowest ribs. Then they slow to a stop.

"Shit," Gaster whispers. Sans opens his eyes to see that Gaster has his clenched shut. "Be quiet," he orders, softly. His hands drop to Sans's hips.

Sans listens, and can hear someone humming, the voice growing louder as they approach the office door. Three knocks come, loud and sharp.

"Doctor Gaster?" Wickett calls from the other side, "I need you to sign off on these before we can do anything else with those doo-dads out by the barrier. Asgore's orders. You in there?"

"I'm trying to sleep! It's my lunch break!" Gaster calls back, glaring at the door, "Can you come back later?"

"Seriously? We need these signed today, Gaster! Before the weekend. You know how beaurocratic-"

The doctor rolls his eyes. "Ten minutes, then. Can you at _least_ give me that? My head's killing me!"

Wickett taps his foot against the floor. "Ugh, fine. Ten fucking minutes. Hope it helps. I'll be down in tool storage."

 _Right where you belong,_ Sans thinks.

"Thank you!" Gaster calls out sweetly.

Sans listens for Wickett's slowly-retreating footsteps, letting out the breath he was holding only when he's sure the professor's safely out of earshot. Gaster lets out a sigh of his own and flops backwards onto the bed.

"You okay?" Sans asks. He reaches forward and cups his hand over Gaster's hip, stroking him gently.

"I'm fine. " Gaster looks up to Sans, still clearly aroused, but not in the mood to continue. Sans backs off. "I suppose now isn't the best time for this, either," he grumbles.

"Tonight, maybe? After work?"

"If you're available."

"I will be," Sans says with a wink.

"Good. Let me up?"

They have less than ten minutes to straighten themselves out, and get rid of the more obvious signs of what they were just doing. Sans rubs his hands over his cheekbones, with no way of knowing whether he's still blushing. It _feels_ like he is.

"I really was hoping to have a word with you," Gaster says, smoothing out his coat collar.

"A long word, or a series of short ones?"

"Two separate but equally important groups of words, specifically." Gaster isn't smiling as he says this.

"Oh. well, you've got me here, I'm listening."

He takes a deep breath. "First, I need you to know that I don't... want to take advantage of my position here. To take advantage of _you._ Please don't be afraid to say no to me if something I do makes you uncomfortable, Sans. I will stop. You will not be risking your job for something that happens between us on a personal level."

Sans looks down to the floor. It's a relief to hear that, honestly. "Thanks, Doc. Same to you, too, okay? If you want me to ease up, or back off completely, let me know."

"Thank you, Sans. Secondly, look at me, please-"

He looks up. Gaster's expression is a somber one, laced with resolution.

"If you tell a single living soul about anything that happens between us, _anyone_ else, I will fire you. Immediately and without question. Is that clear?"

Sans's heart sinks, and a chill washes over him. "Yeah," he replies, barely above a whisper, "Crystal clear."

"Good, thank you for understanding."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned, buckaroos, they're gonna fuck next chapter. 
> 
>  
> 
> Finally.


	8. Bitter, meet Sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, buckaroos.

Gaster's own words still leave a bitter taste in his mouth, when he thinks about them later. And Sans's reaction stirred him in a way he doesn't like. But, as the one in charge here, he knows he needs to set ground rules. Because if there are no ground rules, if Sans doesn't fear _something_ , there will be no respect. Things will fall apart.

He taps his pen against the corner of his keyboard. He's procrastinating. Twenty-eight minutes until the day is over.

If the general public thinks of him as the type of person who screws around with his employees, no one's going to trust him, plain and simple. Likely, no one will think too highly of Sans, either. And Asgore...

Asgore will just outright fire him, if he finds out. Gaster's sure of it. And their work is too important for him to walk away now.

Twenty-six minutes.

He's certainly never thought of himself as the kind of person who screws around with their employees.

But at the end of the workday, as everyone is getting ready to leave, he catches Sans's eye, and motions with a nod of his head towards the elevator. Sans gives him a subtle wink in return, and Gaster rides down to find the young skeleton waiting for him in the lower lab, leaning against the wall just outside the elevator door.

The physical reaction is instantaneous. Second-guessing this decision will wait until later.

  
****  
The two of them almost don't make it to the office; they're too busy necking on their way down. Gaster is too eager for his own good. He can't help it, really. Sans's scent, the cool touch of his hands, the heavy sounds of his breath are all intoxicating as hell.

The only thing that gives him any sort of pause is Sans's request to turn off the lights, once they're safely in the office with the door closed behind them. He reaches for the switch, then halts. "What for?" he asks, raising a skeptical brow.

Sans's hands clench tight around the collar of his own shirt. He looks away. "I uh. Just thought it might be nicer, that way." His flushed face tells Gaster everything he needs to know.

"Very well, if it makes you more comfortable." Gaster smiles wide as he hits the switch. All that's left for them is the faint glow from the LEDs on his computer terminal. He makes his way over to Sans with ease, following the lights of his eyes, and waits until the skeleton has removed his shirt, before reaching for his own. "Just so you know, though," he says, slipping it up and over his head, "I see perfectly well in the dark."

Sans has his pants halfway down by the time Gaster tells him this, and he groans in resignation as the realization hits, before dropping them all the way. Gaster takes in the sight of him, the thick, rounded curves of bone that look like they were crafted with care by a master sculptor. The low arches of his pelvis, the careful and precise way his joints fit around each other. _He's gorgeous_. The doctor feels a stirring in more than his groin as he stares.

He reaches out to touch Sans, stroke his ribs gently, caress his shoulders. He guides him to the bed and gently pushes him down, watching him shiver as he removes the last of his own clothing.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

"Yeah," Sans whispers.

Gaster climbs up onto the bed, placing himself between Sans's legs. His thighs brush against bone, and, looking once more over Sans's body, he's unsure how to continue from here. His erection throbs, begging for contact. He strokes the underside of Sans's legs, presses down in the space between femur and pelvis. Sans sits up a little ways and reaches out, wrapping his fingers softly around Gaster's cock and taking hold, stroking it lightly.

"How do you want to do this?" he asks, in that seductive low rumble of his.

"I um," it's hard to form an answer while his dick is being held so nicely. "I was just about to ask you the same," he admits, laughing. "I don't know how you-"

"I'll show you." He releases Gaster and one of his pupils glows bright blue as he lies back down. Gaster watches in wonder as more blue light coalesces around the front of Sans's pelvis, swirling and taking form into something solid. It looks like a long, writhing ribbon, a flat tendril that can't stay still. "How's that?" Sans asks, "Okay? Or would you prefer something else?"

Prefer? Gaster has _options_ here? He tentatively strokes up the slippery underside the tentacle with one finger, and the apparition stretches and coils around his hand. Sans shakes and whimpers at the contact. "This will do nicely," Gaster decides out loud. He wraps his fingers around it in turn, and leans down to kiss Sans deeply, letting his want take over.

The tendril squeezes his fingers eagerly, and he feels Sans's hand scrambling blindly toward his lap. He hums into Sans's mouth, sliding his tongue further in. Fingers find purchase at the base of his dick and he squeeze hard, forcing a loud moan from deep within Gaster's throat. He pulls back to catch his breath and lets Sans stroke him for a moment, relishing the sensation he had previously only fantasized about. He guides the end of the tentacle towards him, and Sans's hand lets go in favor of letting his magical appendage take hold.

On instinct, it snakes its way down the length of Gaster's dick and wraps itself tightly around. Sans gasps, and Gaster's knees go weak for a second.

"Do you like it?" Sans whispers.

"Fuck, yes." Gaster grabs Sans's thighs and pulls them up over his hips as he pushes forward, thrusting erratically. This isn't what he's used to, but holy hell it feels fantastic. He looks down to watch the rapid rise and fall of Sans's ribs. The young skeleton has his eyes closed tightly shut, and the back of his skull digs into the pillow behind him.

He reaches up and runs his fingers over the Sans's ribcage, along the gaps between bone. Beautiful.

The tendril pulls him up into the hollow of Sans's pelvis as he thrusts, and shifts itself around so the tip of it is aligned with the head of his dick. The thing is slippery as hell, and grips him so tightly, that he's expending more effort not to come too quickly than actually _fucking_ Sans. He watches Sans's face, locked in concentration, as well. _It must be hard work, controlling that thing_ , Gaster thinks.

"Sans," he whispers gruffly. The skeleton's eyes flick up to his face, and the tendril's grip loosens a little, his concentration broken. Gaster takes this opportunity to move a little faster, a little more roughly, sliding his hands down to Sans's hips for purchase. "You're gorgeous," he says, a little softer.

He hears Sans's breathing hitch, and fuck, that's it for him. His hips still and his breathing stutters, and Sans squeezes around him tightly again, sliding roughly up and down his cock until he doubles over, unable to take any more.

"You alright, Doc?" The tendril finally relents, unwinding and allowing Gaster to slip away from its hold.

Gaster simply nods, panting, licks his lips to moisten them. It doesn't help. God, he's finished, but it's not over yet. He lays down next to Sans, tilts the skeletons's face towards his with one hand, and leans in close. "Your turn," he whispers. He plans his lips on Sans's teeth and wraps the fingers of his other hand around the tendril. Sans inhales sharply, caught off guard, but parts his teeth to let Gaster into his mouth, and wraps his arms over the doctor's neck.

The tentacle wraps around his wrist with a vice grip, and Gaster runs two fingers up and down the underside of it, while Sans is busy moaning into his mouth and scraping his own fingers over the back of Gaster's neck.

He keeps going, until Sans's breathing becomes frantic, and his body tenses, pressing tightly against him. The tendril stills and dissipates, and the two of them pull apart just enough to create breathing room.

"Thank you," Sans whispers, barely above a breath.

"Thank _you_ ," says Gaster. He strokes Sans's cheek, "Would you like me to clean you off? I have a towel around here somewhere-" He sits up a little ways, looking around the office.

"Ah, jeez, you don't have to do that."

"Are you sure? I can't imagine it's comfortable having someone's cum stuck and drying on the inside of your body."

"It's uh, well, you've got a point, actually."

"Thought so." He summons a pair of magical hands to fetch him the towel, and folds it over his hand to rub clean the inside of Sans's rib cage, where most of his cum has ac _cum_ ulated. Any that's fallen through the spaces in his back ribs and onto the sheets is a lost cause. He watches Sans's face as he works, all tense and flushed. He moves the towel down into the hollow of Sans's pelvis, and delights at the soft shiver that draws out. "There, that's the last of it," he whispers, tossing the towel to the side.

****

Sans is nervous, waiting for his cue to get up, get dressed, and get gone, but Gaster lies down next to him when they're finished, drapes one arm over him, and kisses him on the cheek.

"t's awfully nice of you," he says, softly.

"It was awfully nice of you to join me," says Gaster. "So thank you," he kisses Sans's cheek again, "for that."

Sans starts to feel light-headed, and he thinks it's more than just the afterglow. He reaches out and hesitantly touches Gaster's chest, stroking it gently. "Are you always this affectionate in bed?" he asks.

"Hm? I suppose so. Does it bother you?"

"Nah, I like it." _But it's fucking with my head, big time_. "Just not used to it," he adds.

"Is it something you could _get_ used to?"

"Are you asking if we can do this again?"

"Yes."

There's that fluttering feeling again. Sans doesn't know what to do with all these butterflies and their restless wings.

"Sure," he says simply.

Gaster grabs his chin and kisses him again, slowly and sweetly. It feels nice. So nice he can't breathe, and his face is burning up. He nuzzles his forehead against Gaster's wraps his arm around the doctor's waist. It's so warm, pressed together like this, and he feels sleep taking hold of him.

What can he do, but relent?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww.


	9. You're holding up nicely, so far.

Sans wakes, hours later, with Gaster's arm still around him. He feels the doctor pressed against his back, and warm breath on the back of his neck. It's so cozy he almost drifts immediately back to sleep. But then Gaster's fingers stir, rubbing zig-zags over his collarbone, and he suspects he's not the only one who's awake.

He turns his head, and Gaster lifts his arm to let Sans turn around completely. "Hey," he whispers.

"Hello," Gaster whispers back, smiling. He wraps his arm over Sans's back and leans in close. They kiss.

Sans nips gently at Gaster's bottom lip, and brushes it faintly with his tongue. The doctor whines softly, and pulls him closer.

"You know," he says lowly, close enough that Sans can feel his breath. "I count myself very lucky." One of his hands drifts downwards. "That your mystery fellow turned you down when he did."

 _Oh no, the doctor still hasn't put that one together._ "Do you now?" Sans asks playfully.

He feels Gaster's thumb rub over the top of his illiac crest, and long fingers brushing over his sacrum. _Oh, that feels nice._

"Yes, and I must say, he's missing out on something grand."

"Heh, you should tell him that, I'd love to see his reaction."

"I mean it, you're wonderful." He leans in and nuzzles his forehead against Sans's.

"So, what's stopping you from staking your claim, Doc? I could be all yours."

Gaster's silence to his question makes him regret asking.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he says, finally. "It's difficult enough keeping one workplace tryst secret, but a relationship? Someone would find out."

"I could quit. Just, putting that out there."

"I'd rather you didn't, especially over something so _trivial._ Just-"

 _Trivial?_ "Relax, will ya? It was a joke. And besides, I'm fine with just this." He runs his fingers down Gaster's chest.

Gaster huffs and closes his eyes again. "I just don't want to waste your time. You've got a lot of promise, and I don't want you throwing it out because of me. Your love life, or your career..."

"I'm not." Sans leans in to kiss him, effectively shutting him up.

It lasts for another half-hour, until Gaster pulls away again, sweating. "I need," he pants, "a shower."

"Heh. Yeah you do."

"Join me?"

"Nah," he sits up, rubbing his forehead, "I should get home. Thanks, for this. Again."

Gaster touches his shoulder gently. "Thank _you_ ," he says with a smile. It makes Sans's chest ache.

Sans puts his clothes back on and teleports out, leaving Gaster alone.

It's only late night, when he gets home and looks at his clock. He and Gaster must have slept only a few hours. He hops into the shower, and while under the steaming water, he feels the phantom echoes of Gaster's hands on his bones. It makes him shiver, and he turns up the heat.

* * *

 

"So, what do you think of Dr. Gaster?" he asks Juneborg, the next afternoon.

She disconnects her left arm from her central power supply. "That's a loaded question."

"Yeah, maybe, but still deserving of an answer, right?"

"Hm. I mean, as our boss, he's pretty good, I guess. But on a personal level, I don't know. I guess I can see why you've got a crush on him, at least. But he's not _my_ type."

"Wh? Who said I had a crush?"

She looks him dead in the eye.

"It's not _that_ obvious."

"It wasn't obvious until you started blushing."

"Jeez."

"It's okay. Remember a few months ago, when we started at the lab?"

"Yeah, I think so?"

"And I was following Dr. Larkeet around all the time, and always asking her questions about things she'd already explained like five times?"

Sans drops the screw Juneborg hands him, and ducks to find it on the floor. "Are you being serious?" he asks, from under the desk.

"Yeah, you and I've been in the same little canoe this whole time." She laughs. "Oh well."

He finds the screw behind her foot, and rises with it back to his chair. "'Oh well', what?" he asks.

"'Oh well' as in neither crush will ever come to fruition," she says, "Or at least, I hope not,"

"Why not?" Sans asks, smirking.

"Well, I mean, Larkeet's married, and Gaster's our boss." She looks at him expectantly, as though he's supposed to get her point. In a way, he does. "Sans! I mean it! I know you're probably crushing hard, but don't risk your career like that!"

"Okay, okay, I won't," he assures her, falsely. He's not supposed to talk about it with anyone, anyways. "Just, wow. Larkeet, huh?"

"Y-yeah? It's not that weird."

"No, but... well. If short, smart, and zealous is your type-"

"Hand me that wrench."

Sans looks over to his side, where she's pointing. The only wrench in that direction is a rather large one. He turns back to her with a nervous smile.

"Thought so," she says, smugly. "Anyway, I mean what I said. Don't try anything with Dr. Gaster. It's not worth it."

"Okay, jeez."

"Yeah, well, 'jeez' right back at you. I shouldn't need to tell you not to flirt with _our_ boss."

"So, anyways," he says in a desparate bid to change the subject.

"Yeah, anyways?"

"What's next on your maintenance agenda?"

"Oh..." she goes silent.

"Oh?'

"Uhhh. Okay well, um. First of all, if you don't want to help me with it, you don't have to. That's fine, I understand. It's just- Well, my legs I can pretty much handle on my own, So all I really need your help with is... uh,"

"Yeah?"

"My chest and back? If that would make you uncomfortable, I totally understand! I'll ask my roommate to help me detach the modifications and I'll work with them from there, it'd just be quicker to have you... well, help."

"Well. I mean. I'm fine with that. If it's fine with you, it's fine with me."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Okay! Whew, thank you! If we finish this arm up quickly enough today, I'll show you what you'll be working with."

They make quicker work of her left arm than they did with the right, and Sans ends his evening staring at Juneborg's open shirt, watching her point out what's what.

 _It has_ , he figures, _been a wild week_.

 

* * *

  
Sunday, Gaster considers texting something to Sans. But he doesn't know what to say.

He puts his phone down, and walks away, only to come back to it a few minutes later.

Monday, they spare each other a quick glance as Sans enters the lab, and then they don't speak to each other directly for the rest of the day. There's a tension between them that makes Gaster uneasy.

He knows it won't hold.

Tuesday, Sans comes in early, and Gaster pulls him aside, kissing him eagerly in the elevator.

He lets up only when the elevator reaches its stop at the bottom, and the doors open.

"Did you want something, or should I ride back up?" Sans asks in a daze.

"I just wanted to make sure you weren't avoiding me," he replies, "It's going to look a little suspicious if the two of us never talk."

"I don't want to distract you, is all," says Sans, looking down the hall.

"You're not distracting me." Gaster knows what Sans is thinking, as they exit the elevator. He knows, because he's thinking the same thing.

"Aren't I? Maybe I should try harder." He walks down the hall, and turns to Gaster with a wink before vanishing entirely.

"Fuck." Gaster rubs his temples and makes his way quickly to his office. They only have twenty minutes before the workday begins

_But if Sans is thinking it,_

_and I'm thinking it,_

_then who's steering this ship?_

* * *

  
"If we do this again," says Gaster, as he rights his shirt collar, "we should probably either wait until the workday's over..." He looks over Sans, still sitting pretty on the edge of his cot, "Or get here earlier in the morning."

"You got time tonight," Sans asks him, "after we hit the bar?"

"Why not skip the bar?"

"It'd look weird if we both skip out."

"I'm not going to fuck you if you're drunk. Just putting that out there."

"Then I won't get drunk."

Gaster turns to him with a skeptical expression, doesn't even bother trying to hide it.

"I mean it," Sans insists, "I'll have like two drinks, and that'll be it."

"I'll hold you to that," Gaster warns him. "Now, go. It's time we began our day."

* * *

 

Sans sneaks a couple of extra shots in while Gaster is in the washroom. If Gaster notices, he says nothing, even after everyone else is gone, and they make their way to Sans's apartment.

Though he can't say much with his tongue in Sans's mouth, anyway. Which is where it finds itself the moment he closes the door behind them.

****  
Sans puts his own mouth to use, once they're undressed. He licks Gaster's chest and stomach teasingly, working his way down, inch by inch. Gaster's voice falters as Sans reaches his hips, and he grins, taking his time wetting the skin over that jut of bone.

He gives Gaster's hip a little nibble, and watches the doctor's legs tense and spasm.

"Looks like we've found your weak spot," he says with a smile.

"I've got one more," Gaster offers, breathily, "If you can find it."

"I think I know where." He finally turns his attention to Gaster's cock, standing erect and dripping, just inches away from his face. He gives it the faintest of licks with the tip of his tongue, and hears Gaster swear under his breath. "I'll do my best," he assures the doctor. He wets the roof of his mouth and slides Gaster's cock in slowly.

Being a skeleton with no lips, Sans isn't actually well-practiced at giving blow jobs, but he likes to give everything an honest shot at least once. And tasting Gaster's cum on the back of his tongue is well worth it, he thinks. 

****

  
And at the end of it, Gaster's holding him close, again. He strokes Sans's cheek, holds his hand, kisses him softly.

And there's a tension in Sans's chest. And it makes him uneasy.

He knows it won't hold.


	10. I want you to feel it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna change up the way I name these chapters, i'm running out of positive encouragement.

After their fun, Sans falls asleep with his head on Gaster's chest. Gaster watches him, breathing deeply, calm, and feels a rush of affection. He places his hand over one of Sans's and turns his head to the side, nestling into the pillow behind him. The fabric of the pillow smells like Sans. He closes his eyes.

He's relaxed, but his heart is racing, and he chides himself for a feeling he has no control over, as Sans stirs against his chest. Gaster can no longer deny to himself that he's smitten with the young monster. He wants to tell Sans that, more than he can measure, but...

But Sans's little joke of Gaster 'staking his claim' sits in the back of his mind, and he feels a pang of guilt when he thinks of it. He _couldn't_ , not with things as they are. If, say, the barrier came down, and Gaster could retire from his position... If they made it to the surface and Sans was still single, still miraculously interested in him, maybe...

Maybe it's not good to fantasize about that, to get his hopes up. He looks back down at Sans and smiles sadly. He really should be setting his sights elsewhere, but honestly a little fling from time to time is harmless, he thinks. Once they've had their fun, Sans is free to move on, to find someone who's worth his time. And as for Gaster himself, he'll count himself lucky that he had this much.

His soul aches. Slowly, carefully, he slips Sans off of him, and climbs out of bed. He puts his clothes back on as silently as he can, sparing Sans one last glance before he slips out the door.

He feels nothing but guilt on the long walk home.

* * *

 

Sans wakes up, alone. Blinking, he glances around his apartment, checking for some sign that the doctor is still there. He finds nothing. He grabs his pillow tightly and shoves his face into it, curling in on himself. He should know better.

It's not like he hasn't done this before. He's gone to bed with _plenty_ of other monsters, and it's always been easy, fun. Almost always. But the kissing, and cuddling, the affection, and the compliments, everything with Gaster is a little bit too _sweet_. It makes Sans feel dizzy and happy, and he wants more of that. After the act, with Gaster's arms wrapped around him, he could pretend that they're sweethearts, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. That each gentle kiss from Gaster is a sign of not only affection, but devotion.

But it's insincere, and it can't last forever. He finally pulls back from the pillow to breathe, his face hot. He's being ridiculous.

Too worked up to sleep, he gets up, gets dressed, and goes for a walk, teleporting himself to the cool streets of the capital.

Even in the middle of the night, the streets here are never empty, and the occasional monster will walk or scuttle past with cheerful greeting. Sans waves back, smiling by default, due to his features. He looks at store windows as he passes; some are dark, some lit dimly in the low light.

A rowdy handful of monsters passes him, laughing loudly and cheering to him as they go. He can smell the booze on them from meters away. He groans, still politely waving to them, cheering back softly. The scent of alcohol makes his mouth water with want, and once the craving stirs, his course changes. Rather than wandering aimlessly, or going back to the bar an hour before they close, he makes his way to the only liquor store in the capital, grateful that it's still open.

The bell at the door dings as he passes through it, and the elderly scorpion monster at the counter swivels towards him.

"Good evening," he says, "Can I help you find anything?"

Sans's gaze sweeps over the large shelves, each covered in glass bottles in a wide variety of shapes and sizes. There are so many. "I'm uh, just looking," he answers back, "I have no idea what I want."

"Take your time," he says softly, leaning back in his chair. His tail curls tightly. "I'll be right here if you have any questions."

"Thanks."

The collection is impressive, considering almost all of it is made and packaged in the underground. Unlike commodities such as coffee, whole, unsused containers of liquor don't often make their way to the underground unscathed.

A short, round bottle of brandy catches his eye, and he walks to the counter with it.

"Excellent choice," the scorpion monster says, "Will that be all, this evening?"

"Yeah, I think so. Thanks."

"Have a good night! And please drink responsibly!"

Sans chuckles to himself as he heads out the door with his purchase.

Once home, he pours himself a small glass of the deep, amber liquid. The scent of it is strong, welcoming. He takes a careful sip, savoring the flavor, and the burn on his tongue and in his throat.

_Comfort._

He drinks the glass slowly, kicking one leg, staring at the books on his desk, and it sits in him warmly, making him drowsy.

Finally, he lays back down and drifts off.

 _Keeping a bottle at home is a good choice_ , he thinks.

* * *

 

Gaster receives a summons from King Asgore the next morning, for a meeting on Thursday. The summons makes no sense, and he can prove it, he has the paperwork to prove it, he just-

 _It's around here somewhere_ , he thinks.

He winds up in the office, while everyone else is down working on the cannon. He's elbow deep in the drawers of a filing cabinet, when he hears Sans appear behind him.

"Hey, Doc."

"Do you need something, Sans?" he asks, turning to face the young skeleton. Sans holds a handful of papers out to him.

"Not me, Wickett says he needs you to go over these and sign them," he says.

Gaster rolls his eyes as he accepts the paperwork with an open hand. "I need to have a stamp made for him, so he can just put my signature on whatever he wants," he grumbles. "I don't have time to read over every beaurocratic piece of garbage-" he trails off, smacking the papers down on the desk next to him and pulling a pen from his labcoat pocket.

Sans chuckles. "He'd have fun with that." He moves to lean against the desk Gaster is leaning over, resting his weight on it in an overly casual manner. Gaster watches the edge of the table press into his clothing. He pauses midstroke, leaving a small blotch of ink on the 's' in his name, before quickly finishing the rest.

"I'm sure he would," he replies, sliding the paper across the desk. "There you go, anything else?"

"Nah. What's got you all worked up?"

"Me? I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Of course. Are you?"

"Yeah, always. Just uh, you got a summons from Asgore, and you got all frantic. Everything okay?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just looking for something I'd like to bring along to the meeting. Nothing to worry about."

"If you say so." Sans takes the papers back and tucks them under one arm, and makes a slow break for the stairs, walking away instead of disappearing.

"Could you come back here?" Gaster asks before he's gone.

Sans looks over his shoulder from the top of the stairs, confusion written all over his face. The doctor leans his weight against the desk, mirroring Sans's pose from just moments ago.

"What's up?" Sans asks.

"You've got something on your neck-" Gaster reaches out and touches Sans's neck vertebrae, rubbing his fingers down the back of them. "-there we go," he whispers.

He watches as the heat visibly creeps into Sans's face at his touch. "You liar," the skeleton growls.

"It was a piece of lint," Gaster insists dropping his hand, "It's gone now." He smiles wide as Sans becomes more flustered.

"I'll get you back for that," Sans says in a low tone.

"I'm sure," Gaster says with a wink.

* * *

 

Sans takes deep breaths in the elevator ride back to the basement, cooling himself down before he has to face his coworkers again. His neck still feels hot where Gaster touched him, and he hisses at how easily the doctor got him worked up. He has it _bad_. It's not really fair, is it?

 _But the attraction goes both ways_ , he thinks. He's gotten Gaster flustered before, and he can do it again.

That might be fun, figuring out what it is that gets Gaster going, and using it against him. Make him feel even for a moment the intense vulnerability Sans feels around him. Good, clean, fun.

Sans needs to up his game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's not like this is all going to be angsty pining or anything. They'll have some fun.
> 
> Sorry if this is kind of all over the place. I'm straying from my outline a lot, while still trying to stick to it. I should just make a new one.
> 
> Off topic: While looking up pictures of brandy, I ended up with a lot of pics of Brandy Norwood. I kind of... forgot how gorgeous she is. I'm smitten, you guys. Help.


	11. This should be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to Rag--Tag!!!!!!  
> I hope you like this chapter!!!  
> :-3

Sans's plan goes into action as soon as Gaster is back in the lower labs.

"Hey, Doc? I was hoping you could take a look at this," he says. Gaster walks over to him and looks at the mess of wires Sans has soldered together. As he leans over to get a better look, Sans leans toward him, pressing into his side. Gaster is visibly caught off guard by this, and looks Sans in the eye before politely stepping a few inches to the side.

"It looks alright to me," he says, "maybe use a little less solder, next time, but this will do."

"Thanks, Doc." Sans grins at him and gives him a wink.

Gaster's cheeks dust with color, and he nods then turns away.

Sans sets the mess of wires down. He wasn't even the one that soldered them together. Luckily, Professor Wickett was out of earshot at the moment.

He gets back to work, but eventually has to approach Gaster at his desk, to ask him a _very_ important question. He gently brushes the doctor's arm with his hand to get his attention, and leans in close to ask it quietly. Gaster reacts to the proximity by quickly glancing around the room, but if anyone notices, they aren't saying anything, or even looking in that direction.

For his next trick, he pulls a pen out of his front pocket and bites down on the tip of it, holding it in his mouth as he goes about his work. If he's learned anything useful about Dr. Gaster while working at the lab, it's that the doctor can't stand it when people keep pens and pencils in their mouths. Dangerous? Maybe. Supposedly people have choked on pens before. Unsanitary? _Sure_. Sans doesn't know where this particular pen has been, other than his pocket and maybe the floor. With the bait set, all he has to do is wait. A handful of minutes pass before Gaster notices, and comes marching across the room to wordlessly pluck the pen from his mouth.

"Hey," says Sans, "give that back."

Gaster fixes him with a stern look. Sans puts on an equally affronted look, just for show. After a few moments, the doctor carefully offers the pen back to him. Sans accepts it by taking it back with his teeth.

"Sans!" He reaches for the pen immediately, but Sans ducks away, laughing.

"This's been in my mouth," he replies with clenched teeth, "Why're you even trying to take it?"

"Sans, really!" Gaster hisses, as he makes one more futile grab for the pen. He leans forward as Sans leans back over the table behind him.

Sans pulls the pen from between his teeth with his own hand, holding it behind him, further out of Gaster's reach as the doctor leans over him. He laughs a little at their positioning, which Gaster doesn't seem to notice.

He attempts to twirl the pen between two fingers, but it slips from his hand and falls to the floor. Welp, it's not going back in his mouth now. Gaster is glaring at him, but Sans gives him a smile and drops down slowly, bending at the knee until he can reach the floor. He keeps his eyes on Gaster, watches the doctor take a step back as his face flushes with color. Sans smiles wide and picks up the pen, rising silently back to his feet. He parts his teeth, and brings the pen slowly back to his mouth, only for Gaster to reach out and pluck it away from him once more.

" _Enough._ I'm confiscating this until you can behave yourself."

Larkeet snickers at them from across the room.

"Alright, have it your way," Sans says with a shrug.

He has three more pens in his pockets.

But now Gaster's onto him for sure.

* * *

  
 _I'm onto that little monster. He's been trying to get a rise out of me all morning_ , Gaster thinks. _He almost did, bending down like that..._ In his mind, he pictures Sans sinking to his knees again, just for a moment, before shaking his head clear. _Well, I'm not going to crack_ , he assures himself. _There's work to be done!_

He makes it his goal to ignore Sans for the rest of the day, focusing on what's in front of him at his desk. If he doesn't look over, doesn't spare any attention, Sans can't win.

He's worried though, the entire rest of their team is down in the lower lab with them, and one of them is sure to catch onto what's happening, if Sans doesn't stop. He hears Sans and Juneborg talking behind him, and the drop of another pen. He rolls his eyes and shifts in his seat, keeping focus. It's almost lunch time.

"Hey, Wingdings," Sans says, sidling up behind him.

Gaster braces himself, feeling a tinge of annoyance at yet another bony troublemaker using his first name. He keeps his cool when Sans leans in close from the side, but isn't expecting the young skeleton's hand to caress his _upper thigh_ under the desk. It sends a shiver through him, and he startles, letting out a loud gasp as he jumps in his chair.

Everyone else in the room turns to look. Heat spreads to his face, and he looks back at his desk, humiliated.

"Whoah, sorry," Sans says, in an overly casual tone, "I was just going to ask if you wanted anything from the sandwich place down the road. I'm fetching for everyone."

Gaster turns to him with a glare. "No thank you, I'm fine," he mutters, his voice dripping with ice.

"You sure, Gaster?" Larkeet asks, "They've got turnovers there."

"I shouldn't," he insists, "Thank you for offering though." He addresses Sans directly without looking him in the face. "I'll be in my office, if anyone needs me."

"Hey, You okay?" Sans asks. Gaster brushes past him, a little too roughly, and shuts the office door behind him.

In the dark, he covers his face with one hand and lets out a shaky breath.

* * *

 

Sans brings back lunch for everyone in the office, and some turnovers for Gaster anyway, on him, as an apology.

When he gets back to the lab, everyone's up in the lobby except Gaster. To be expected, really. Sans worries he might've taken that last one too far.

He pops back down to the basement, and knocks on Gaster's door.

"Come in," Gaster snaps from the other side. Sans takes a deep breath and opens it. Inside the office, the lights are off.

"Hey, Doc? I'm sorry, I might've gone a bit too far there-"

"Close the door."

Sans does as he is told. "O-okay. So, anyways, I wanted to apologize. I know you said you weren't hungry, but... uh..."

As his eyes adjust to the dark, he can make out Gaster sitting at his desk, propping his head up with his hands.

"Are you okay?" Sans asks, his pulse racing. He sets the bag of turnovers down gently on a nearby table.

"I said I was fine, not that I wasn't hungry," Gaster says, coldly, "Thank you for the food." He pushes his chair back and stands.

Sans backs against the door. He can feel Gaster's glare on him. "Hey, I'm sorry about using your first name. That was- I won't-"

"I'm less upset about that, _though I wish you hadn't_ ," Gaster whispers, stepping toward him, "and more upset because all of our coworkers were in that room, and you were feeling me up, where any of them could have seen you do it. Workplace banter and horseplay is one thing, but there's no way someone could misconstrue a touch like _that_. Your hand was practically right on my groin. Well, if your intention was to rouse me, it certainly worked. right in front of our colleagues. Thank you."

"I'm sorry."

"Turn around."

Shaking, short of breath, he turns to face the door. Gaster takes another step toward him, and leans down, so his breath is hot on Sans's neck. Despite his fear, Sans feels a bit of arousal stirring. He can feel Gaster's erection, warm against his back as the doctor presses further toward him.

He feels the doctor's hands, first on his shoulders, then his chest, as they slide downward, raking over his body. He groans when Gaster's fingers brush down his thighs, and against his better judgement, lets his own erection grow, springing forth from his magic. Gaster immediately grabs it, and gives it a couple of gentle squeezes through the fabric, before giving it one big, hard squeeze that makes Sans cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Listen to me," Gaster says lowly, his voice hot on Sans's jaw, "Not. In. Public. And especially not around my crew, including those that work at the core." He puctuates himself with a tighter grip, raising his voice over Sans's. "In this case, the only thing worse than telling someone about what we're doing would be _showing them outright_."

"I'm sorry," Sans hisses in pain. Gaster finally lets him go, and the lack of his touch is for once a relief.

"You'd better be," Gaster says. He grabs Sans's shoulder and turns him around. Before Sans can register what's happening, Gaster's mouth is on his in a rough and wanting kiss.

Gaster's tongue is hot and wet against his, and he can feel his knees shake, damn near ready to give out. The doctor pulls away and goes for his neck, and Sans struggles to remember they're still in the lab, during work hours, and he shouldn't be moaning so loudly. A hand reaches up to cover his mouth, silencing him while the doctor goes at him, pinning him flat against the door. There's a heat rushing through him, and he's struggling to breathe though his mouth is free. He leans his head back against the door.

The two of them finally pull apart, and Sans is still trying to catch his breath when the light in the office comes on, startling him. He closes his eyes on instinct, blinking slowly to let them adjust. By the time they're open fully, Gaster is already staring him down.

Rather than the angry glare Sans is expecting, Gaster looks almost calm, as if he's studying Sans, looking for something.

"What?" Sans asks.

"Nothing. I'm sorry, for that." Gaster looks away.

"Nah, it's fine. Should I um... should I go?"

"If you want."

"I mean... you're upset, right?"

"I don't know."

Sans hesitates, unsure of whether this conversation is over. He tries his luck. "Tonight would you be up for something fun?"

Gaster takes a moment to think about his response.

"No," he decides, "not tonight. Thank you again for the food. I um. Could you just try and pretend everything's normal, for the rest of the day?"

"Sure."

"Thank you."

* * *

Gaster sits back down after Sans is gone, unsure of what to do with himself.

 

He wishes he had said yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaaaaay, fun!


	12. Lay off!

"As you can see, your majesty, I have it outlined here in the notice I received of your budget plan. _' Dr. W.D. Gaster, head of the Hotland Labs, and Dr. Poma, head of the Core, have budgeted allowance to hire up to three new workers each, and to train and outfit them as necessary.'_ I hired the three workers I was allowed, and I assume Poma did the same."

Asgore cringes more and more with each word. "Uuuunfortunately, Dr. Gaster, there seems to have been a miscommunication made between my accountant and the monster who penned the document. The allowance was made for three people total. Between you and Poma. While I understand what the paper says, I am sorry to inform you that that statement was made in error."

Gaster's stomach drops. He was hoping there had been some misunderstanding, that Asgore had called the meeting without knowing what he was talking about. No such luck.

"So... your science and technology department as a whole has three more people than the budget can support... is that right?"

"That is correct."

"Great. Wonderful. And what solution do you propose, my dear King?" No sense in asking, he knows what's coming. He drums his fingers on the table, nervously.

"We may need to make some cuts, lay a few off, and hope we can recoup the loss in the budget. Perhaps a bake sale!"

"A... a bake sale." Gaster bites back the bile in his throat. Not that a bakesale organized by King Dreemurr would'nt be successful, they always were. Many a project was started or saved by Asgore directing people's attention to where it needed to be, and that's supposedly how the Royal Science and Technology Department got its start.

Whatever department Gaster and Poma had accidentally sucked funds away from would no doubt recover, thanks to the king's effort.

But now the two of them would have to decide who goes home, and who gets to stay. Surely, with the larger team overall, Poma would be willing to let three go. Gaster couldn't really afford to work with a smaller team than he has now, not with the cannon nearing completion.

"Now, for the good news. I understand that both of your teams are struggling, Gaster, and that losing employees would be difficult. Which is why I'm willing to stretch the budget a little further, so that each of you will only be losing one. I'll need you to take action by-"

"I'll take a pay cut."

"I'm sorry?"

Gaster knows immediately that the smart decision would be to let go of Sans. The only member of his team who isn't a specialist, who has plenty of potential elsewhere. And a small, insidious part of him thinks that if he let Sans go, the little problem of them getting caught together would be gone. Sans would no longer be his employee, and Gaster could pursue him freely.

He stuffs that thought away. It has no place directing his affairs.

"Take whatever you need to out of my salary, I'm not giving up one of my crew, not right now."

"Gaster, my dear friend, are you sure about that? If I cut your pay by that much..." He flips through some of the papers stacked on the table next to him, "Well, you'd be making just under starting wage. I do not think that's really fair to you."

He shrugs, as casually as he can manage. "I've got a savings built up. I'll be fine for quite a while. "

Asgore doeesn't look convinced. "I- Well, if you think so..."

"I know so." _Oh, this is a bad idea._ "And more importantly, right now, everyone on my team plays an important part. If I gave up one of them, we'd all be left scrambling. With the cannon as near to completion as it is, I'd rather take the drop in pay."

"Alright, then, I'll have the adjustments made, and your pay will be decreased starting on the first of next month, two weeks from today."

"Good then, thank you for letting me know about this error, and for working with me to find a solution." He stands, pushes his chair back in as he gathers his paperwork. "I hope you have a good day, your majesty."

"Oh, um, thank you!" Asgore quickly rises as well. "Are you leaving so soon?"

"I must be on my way, yes. We're keeping busy, busy, busy."

"Well then, I hope you have a pleasant day. Stay safe, Gaster."

"And you, too. Oh, before I go, though?"

"Yes?"

"See if you can talk Poma into taking a pay cut as well. He shouldn't be making more than me."

Asgore laughs. "I'll see what I can do."

Gaster takes his time walking back to the lab, kicking up dirt as he goes. He considers stopping and treating himself to a coffee on the way back, something to lighten the mood, then remembers that his financial situation is going to be less than spectacular in the near future, and decides against it. He'll have plenty enough to get by, that's for sure. But perhaps not enough income to spend recklessly on treats he doesn't need.

All to keep Sans on his team, and out of his reach.

He returns to the lab just as everyone is finishing up their lunch breaks, just in time for the second half of the day.

"Oh, hey, you're back." Sans waves Gaster over to the refrigerator, on the other side of the lobby.

"Yes, I'm back. Is there something you need?" he asks, sullenly.

Sans opens the fridge door and pulls out a large paper cup. "I don't know how you feel about iced coffee," he says, "But I was out getting some and I thought I'd get something for you. You looked a little tired, this morning."

"Oh." Gater accepts the cup gratefully. "Thank you very much, you read my mind." He takes a small sip. It's a little on the sweet side, but strong enough to perk him up, for sure.

"Any time." Sans picks up his own cup off the counter and raises it to his mouth. "How'd your meeting go?" he asks, before taking a drink.

"It went... alright," he replies, after a moment of thought. "Thought there might have been an issue, but King Dreemurr and I were able to sort it out quickly."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm." He takes another sip. Very sweet.

"Well, I'm glad."

"Me too. I think your break's over, by the way."

"Yeah, yeah. See you later." Sans smiles and takes his leave, making his way up the office stairs.

Gaster looks down at his coffee and smiles, feeling more grateful than Sans has any right to know.

* * *

 

"And it's just, sometimes," Wickett explains at the bar, later that day, "sometimes, you gotta trust your _gut_. Trust that... _gut feeling_ , that someone's lying to you. Y'know?" He turns to Sans for affirmation.

"No, I don't know," Sans says with a wide grin, "Please explain."

"Wh? Your _gut_ , kid. What'dyou think I'm talking about???"

A wave of snickering goes around the table. Gaster rests his chin in both his hands. Sans presses on, feigning innocence.

"I don't know what that is," he insists.

Gaster clears his throat.

Wickett raises one hand, about to restate himself for the third time, when it finally clicks.

Sans takes a long swig of his beer.

"Wait a minute, Sans are you- do you really have nothing there? No guts or nothing?"

"That's kind of an invasive question."

"I mean, I'm made of wax, and even I've got organs."

"Ewww, TMI, Wickett," June whines over the rim of her glass.

Gaster covers his mouth with one hand and leans back in his chair, laughing.

"You don't believe me? Hold on." Sans sets his cup down and rises from his chair, lifting his shirt as he moves to reveal the empty space between his ribcage and pelvis.

"Woah," someone whispers. Gaster's smile falls.

"Can I like, stick my arm in there?" Larkeet asks, incredulously.

"Ooh! Me too!" June chimes in.

"Uhh, sure? I mean it's just air." Sans's face heats up as Larkeet and June both reach out to wave their limbs around in his hollow space. Even Wickett gets up to feel. Sans looks away. Someone's hand brushes the bottom of his ribcage. "Hey now, that's getting fresh," he chides, laughing.

Gaster does not look happy. If anything, he looks more embarrassed than Sans feels.

"Hey, Doc, get some of this _nothing_ , will ya? Don't want you feeling left out."

Reluctantly, the doctor rises up and reaches out, wiggling his fingers in the empty space.

"Fascinating," he mutters. Sans smiles wider.

"Okay, everyone, that is probably the most intimate group encounter I've ever had in my life," Sans says, pulling his shirt back into place as everyone sits down.

"Oh, I highly doubt that," June says in a singsong tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks.

She takes a very healthy swig of her drink. "With the reputation you had, back at school? I highly doubt exposing your abdomen to a small crowd is the most _intimate_ you've gotten in a _group setting_ ," she says.

Sans freezes. Heat rises to his cheeks as a wave of "Ooh, a reputation, huh?" seems to go around the table. June was social; though Sans hadn't interacted with her much at the time, no doubt she knew someone (or a few someones) who Sans had been with. No doubt, people couldn't keep their mouths shut.

He hesitantly flicks his gaze over to Gaster who, thank the stars, looks more intrigued than upset. "Oh? What kind of reputation?" the doctor asks, coyly.

"I uh, I was the campus bike, in a sense," he replies, before downing the rest of his drink. He's gonna need something stronger if this is how the night is going. "I spent a lot of time on my back."

"And you still passed all your classes? I'm impressed," Gaster purrs.

Sans can feel sweat beading on the back of his head, and Gaster's foot nudging his under the table.

"Oh god, you didn't hook up with any of your teachers, did you?" Larkeet asks loudly.

June excuses herself to the bar for another drink.

"What? No way!" Sans pipes back.

"Alright, well, as much fun as it is discussing our sordid pasts, I should get heading home," Gaster says, rising from his seat again. "I bid you all a good evening, and shall see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, get on outta here, I'll tell everyone allllll about your sordid past!" Larkeet threatens, waving her arm at him.

"Please do," he goads, "I'll enjoy sprinkling your dust over the office printer."

Sans bids him a good night, but heaves a sigh of relief once he's gone. "So uh, what's Gaster's sordid past like?" he asks Larkeet.

"Oh, I don't know for sure. All I've got are the same rumors as everyone else, about how the previous Royal Scientist disappeared after Dr. Gaster assumed his position. So, get this..."

 


	13. A wasted opportunity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HHHHGGGG I know I should space these chapters out better, but this one's ready TODAY and it's getting posted TODAY.

_' **Why don't you come over and show me some of what you learned in college?'**_

 

_**'omg i didn't see this til just now. sht. is the offer stll standing?'** _

  
Gaster rolls his eyes when he sees the message Sans finally replied with. You can't just text someone hours after they ask you over and expect them to still be in the mood-

' _ **Yes. Come over,**_ ' he replies. He's got no self respect, does he?

A moment later, there's a knock on the door, and he gets up to answer it eagerly. This is the first time Sans has actually been in his home, and he can't wait to get him-

"Heya, Doc."

Gaster knows immediately that Sans is beyond wasted. If he didn't emanate the scent of it, his overly dependent lean on the door frame would have given it away.

"Can I come in?" he asks.

"You're absolutely plastered," Gaster mumbles, stepping aside to let him through.

"'m not," Sans counters, stumbling his way in. A strong argument.

"How many drinks did you have?"

"Dunno, went home after the bar and I-"

"Shoes off, please."

"Kay. I had like, half a bottle of brandy left, and I think I was on the last of it when I saw your text, so." He slips off his shoes, and only the support of the wall next to him keeps him from falling over.

"Half a bottle of brandy," Gaster repeats, sternly, "I had no idea you were drinking at home now."

"I uh, yeah." Sans reaches out toward him with one hand, and Gaster takes it in his own, pulling the young skeleton closer to him. "Sssooooo, what did you want me to teach you?"

His drunken attempt at seduction is admirable; he leans into Gaster's body gently and lowers his voice to that perfect tone that would have Gaster squirming in any other situation. Gaster sighs as the hard ends of Sans's fingers grip his shirt at the waist, and pull him closer.

He looks down the hall, toward his bedroom. He knows he _really_ shouldn't be doing this, but- "Come on," he says softly, taking hold of Sans's hands, "I'll show you to my bed."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," Sans practically purrs as Gaster leads him down to the end of the short hallway. "I think this is the first time I've seen the inside of your house. 's nice." Gaster reaches in and turns the dimmer for the light on low, before gently ushering Sans inside.

"Go sit down on the bed for me, Sans. I'll be right back."

"Heh, sure thing."

"Also, don't get undressed yet."

"Okay?"

"I'll be right back," Gaster repeats.

He watches Sans clumslily climb onto the edge of the bed, only to lie flat on his back and stare at the ceiling. Gaster chuckles quietly and makes his way to the kitchen.

Water, crackers, three aspirin, and a hand towel. He leans against the counter, surveying the kitchen for anything else he might need. _No, that should be fine_. He gathers them up and returns to the bedroom. Sans is sitting on the edge of the bed now, kicking his feet.

"Oh, what is _that_?" he asks, scrambling to get up, "Gaster, no."

"Sit back down. Sans." Gaster sets the objects in his arms on the bedside table.

"Doc, c'mon. None of that's necessary. I thought you wanted-"

"You come on. You should know by now that I will _not_ have sex with you if you're _drunk_."

"Why? You already know I'd be down for it, Doc."

The doctor bristles. "That's not the point, it's about having standards, and about not taking advantage of people. If we were both drunk it would be different, but right now, being of more sound mind, I have an advantage over you, and that makes me uncomfortable. I hope it would make you uncomfortable as well, should our situation ever be reversed. Now, You can stay the night here, but I'll need you to drink some water before you sleep."

He pouts. "How about I just go home so I don't bother you?"

"You're not a bother." Gaster hands him the glass of water. "Here, drink."

"Gaster..."

"Drink."

Sans's face flushes with color, but he does as he's told.

"Thank you. Now, I have some clothes you can borrow for the night-"

"That's not necessary."

"Maybe not, but the option's there. Have some more water, won't you? I doubt you're getting away without a hangover in the morning, but with luck, it won't be absolute _murder_." He walks over to his dresser as he talks, and digs through the top drawer to find a spare shirt for Sans to wear. Ah, how embarassing, a T-shirt with the words 'byte me' printed on it. A relic from his own college days, and perfect for Sans. "You can wear this to bed," he says, holding it out with the print showing.

Sans sees it and laughs, snorting water out his nose. "Oh god." He reaches for the hand towel to dry his face. "You're such a nerd."

"I know. Shall I help you undress?"

"Only if I get to undress you."

"Don't be difficult."

"It was worth a try." Sans sets the water down and reaches for the collar of his shirt, hesitating. "Kind of feels like... crossing a line here, doesn't it?"

Gaster doesn't quite know what to make of that. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asks.

Sans shakes his head. "Nah, don't worry about it. Just me and my dumb hangups." He pulls off his shirt, or tries to. One sleeve gets caught on his arm, and he's struggling to get out of it when Gaster reaches over and pulls it off for him. "Thank you," he says, softly. He picks up the fresh shirt and slips it on with Gaster's help, before sliding his pants down and shaking them off. "How do I look?" he asks, holding his arms out to either side.

"Like a nerd," Gaster replies honestly. "A short one." The shirt fits him well enough except that it's far too long, and the hem falls midway down his thighs. It almost covers his boxers, so it's good enough. "You look good though, handsome."

"Thanks," Sans laughs.

"Would you say you're ready for bed?"

"You still want me to stay?"

"You're wearing just a shirt, Sans. My shirt. I certainly don't want you to leave. I'll get you some more water, and when I get back, we'll turn out the lights."

"Okay."

Gaster brings back a full glass of water to set on the nightstand, and darkens the room almost completely, leaving just enough light for Sans to see by should he wake in the middle of the night. Then he slides into bed, next to the wall, making sure they're both covered by the thick comforter before nestling in. He watches Sans's face in the dark for a while, how the lights of his eyes are fixed on the ceiling. Tired though he looks, Sans isn't even trying to sleep.

"Is everything alright, Sans?" he asks, gently.

"I dunno," Sans whispers. Gaster gives him a few moments to think about it. "I drank a lot."

"Yes, you did."

"I was so scared you'd be mad at me, or that maybe you wouldn't want me after what June said, about how I've probably fucked like a hundred people."

Gaster doesn't remember _that_ part of the conversation, but lets Sans continue anyway.

"And instead of just not wanting me, you invite me over and treat me like I- I'm..." he trails off, mumbling something Gaster can't quite understand.

"Like you're what?" he asks, propping himself up on one elbow.

"I mean, letting me spend the night in your bed, and giving me water and letting me borrow your clothes," he turns to face Gaster. "I showed up drunk and you just decided to take care of me, instead of getting mad. It's just kind of uh... Not really something I'd expect from a fuck buddy. It's like, almost crossing the line. Couple stuff, maybe."

Gaster is silent, trying to think of a response to that. "Just, think of it as something a friend would do, if that makes you feel better," he says quietly.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Sans shifts under the covers.

"Does-" Gaster's voice trembles when he next tries to speak. He clears his throat. "Does the thought of being in a relationship, with me, bother you?" His pulse quickens as he asks it out loud.

"No, 'course not. I just haven't dated anyone since like, grade school, so I'm not used to stuff that isn't just fooling around on weekends. 's it bother you? The idea?"

"No, it doesn't bother me. It's just not a very good idea, considering the risk."

"Cool. Not worth it."

"That isn't what I meant at all," Gaster hisses.

Sans curls under the blanket, pulling it up to cover part of his face.

Gaster keeps his voice low, controlled, but he's a little more than upset by the assumption. "Why don't you just consider this one in a (no doubt long) chain of flings you have had and will continue having until you finally settle down with your next mystery man... person. Whatever," he growls.

"You know that was you, right?" Sans asks, his voice muffled by the covers.

"What was?"

"That mystery man you kept asking about, th' one I had a huge crush on."

The doctor goes silent, thinking over the times that Sans had actually talked about the man. There was no way-

"I thought I was bein' all coy 'n shit. Clever. But maybe I was, if you never realized, you genius you."

"You." Gaster sits up. This night keeps making him more and more pissed. "You said I was out of your league! You little brat!"

"You're just mad 'cause you didn't catch on."

"No! You didn't honestly think that, did you?"

Sans sits up to join Gaster. He wobbles a little. "Yeah. I told you it wouldn't work."

"You didn't even ask me."

"You turned me down, anyway."

"I-" Well, no. That's true. For entirely different reasons than Sans predicted, but it's true. "I don't know what to say. I can't believe you actually had a crush on me."

"Have."

"Have," Gaster repeats. His heart goes wild. _It's not fair_. He turns to face Sans and reaches out, cupping the young skeleton's jaw to hold him still for a kiss. The words ' _He likes me!_ ' ring out through his head as their mouths join. Sans's tongue meets his, and Gaster will never admit it out loud, because apparently it's becoming a problem, but the taste of liquor on Sans's breath suits him so well, and the way he melts into Gaster's touch has the doctor struggling to keep from getting an erection. But he feels Sans hard against his leg, and fingers brushing his lap, and has to pull away to breathe for a moment. "Not tonight, not like this," he reminds the young skeleton, "But tomorrow, if you want, I'll fuck you into oblivion."

"Sounds like a plan," Sans laughs against his lips, then goes in for more.

Gaster gets tugged down to the bed, and they end up lying close, arms wrapped around each other, kissing eagerly like it's the last time they'll ever be able to. Gaster's fingers brush hard against Sans's vertebrae, under the t-shirt, and Sans rocks his hips involuntarily. They entwine their legs together, squeezing each other tightly.

Finally, Sans is the one to pull away for air. "Fuck," he whispers, "I'm dizzy. This is. Wow."

"Maybe you should get some rest," Gaster chuckles. Aside from his morals, he's reminded that drunk people don't make good lovers as far as performance is concerned. They're clumsy, sloppy, and tend to tire quickly. He reaches down and pushes his erection to the side, so it isn't straining so hard against his shorts. With any luck, it'll go away in a minute.

Sans takes another sip of his water from the nightstand. "God," he whispers, "am I even gonna remember any of this in the morning?"

"Probably not. I can remind you, if you like."

"Are you kidding? I told you about my huge-ass crush on you, I'll literally die of embarrassment if you tell me that."

"Embarrassment?"

"Or something." Sans lies back down, resettles under the blanket. "I'll get my hopes up, about this. If I don't remember, just leave it. I was almost annit-an-annihilated when you told me I tried to kiss you."

That makes the whole thing funnier, in Gaster's mind, but he relents. "Alright, if you insist." He supposes it's enough that he knows his feelings are requited. It feels incredible. "I don't want to make any promises, Sans, but..."

"Hm?"

He shifts so he's further under the blanket, safer. "If the cannon works, and we make our way to the surface, if I give my position to Dr. Larkeet, and we're both single and _somehow_ you're still interested in me..."

"Yeah?"

"Would you want to try for something more, then?'

"Hell yeah," Sans yawns. "I definitely would."

Warmth floods Gaster's body, and a smile spreads across his face. "Good," he says, "I guess that's something to work towards."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I put that confession back into this chapter, like I originally planned. LOL.


	14. Dehydration and Thirst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the tardy.

Sans wakes up and within seconds his head is _pounding_. He lifts his head from the pillow and Gaster is standing in the middle of his room, pulling on a pair of pants.  
Wait, it's not _his_ room, is it? He looks around. It's an unfamiliar space. His head throbs and he groans, sinking back down into the pillow.

"Ah, shhh shuushh, it's alright, go back to sleep," Gaster whispers, leaning over him.

"What-"

"You should sleep off your hangover, Sans. No point in you going in to work like this."

"Work?"

"No, not today. Go back to bed, alright? I'll be back to check on you, later."

"What," Sans is having difficulty stringing words together in the order he wants them, "am I doing here? 's this your place?"

Gaster smiles serenely at him, for some reason. "Yes. I'll um, I'll leave you a note, in case you wake before I get back. There's water for you here on the nightstand, and some aspirin. I highly recommend you take it."

 _Oh, that's nice of him._ "Thank you, Gaster."

"Rest well, Sans."

Sans rests very well, after taking the aspirin and downing most of the glass of water. He wakes up hours later, certain that he had dreamed about talking to Gaster, but as he opens his eyes, he's greeted again with the dim, unfamiliar room. He sits up slowly, groaning. His head doesn't hurt as much, but there's still a bit of an ache. He feels queasy.

There's a sheet of paper on the nightstand next to him, he reads it slowly, straining in the dim lighting of the room.

_'Sans, you showed up at my house last night, very drunk, and I made you spend the night with me rather than sending you home in the state you were in. Nothing else happened, I assure you._  
_Don't worry about going in to work today, I've given you the day off. I'll be back around lunchtime, if you're still at my house by then. If you decide to leave, just let me know beforehand._  
_\-- Gaster_

  
_P.S. If you get hungry, please feel free to use my kitchen. I don't mind at all.'_

Sans sinks back down into the bed, clutching the note close to him. Gaster made him stay the night? But nothing happened. So he just slept in Gaster's bed for no reason? Where did Gaster sleep, then?

He glances around the room as his thoughts fill with a dull panic. He has no memory of the night before. None. Did he do something embarassing again? How much did he even drink? The ache in his head tells him it was a lot.

The worry slowly ebbs away as he takes in the look of Gaster's room, laying it to memory. It's fairly clean, with the odd item strewn out of place, including his own clothes on the floor. The dark, simplistic furniture suits the doctor's tastes. It looks old, too. The bed he's laying on is a decent size, built either for a larger monster or a couple of medium ones. He nestles back under the blankets, taking in the scent of them as they brush over his face. They smell kind of like Gaster does. It's nice, soothing. He keeps the note close to him as he drifts back off.

The third time he wakes, it's because he hears footsteps coming toward him from down the hall. He opens his eyes quickly, and spots Gaster's sillhouette in the doorway.

"Hello," Gaster greets him, calmly. Thank goodness, he doesn't look upset.

"Good mornin'," Sans manages to croak back.

The doctor makes his way over to the bed and sits on the corner, by Sans's feet, as Sans sits up.

"How are you feeling?" Gaster asks.

"Not great. Think I slept off most of my hangover, though."

"Good."

"Did I uh... You said nothing happened, but..."

"Correct. Is something wrong?"

"I hate to ask, but did I do anything stupid?"

Gaster chuckles. "Besides drinking half a bottle of brandy in one night?"

"Eugh."

"You asked me not to tell you about it."

"Great." _I probably did something awful,_ he thinks. I hope _I didn't start singing. Or crying._

He feels Gaster's hand on his foot through the covers, and looks up to meet the doctor's eyes.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Gaster says. "Have you eaten?"

"Nah, just kind of kept falling asleep."

"I'll go make us something, then. I'm on my lunch break."

With that, he gets up and makes for the door. Once he's there, he pauses, sparing Sans a look over his shoulder.

"By the way," he says, "That shirt suits you. You should keep it."

Sans looks down at himself, wondering what Gaster's talking about. Sure enough, he's wearing some cheesy t-shirt he doesn't even recognize, with the words _'byte me_ ' printed on the front. How awful. When he looks back up, Gaster's already gone. He sighs and gets up, stretching his bones out slowly. He dons his pants and, upon discovering that his own shirt smells like a bar rag, decides to keep the t-shirt on.

He finds Gaster's kitchen without much trouble, and finds Gaster therein, tending to something boiling on the stove. "Hey," he says softly.

"Ah, hello again."

"Thanks for um, taking care of me last night. The water, and everything."

"Don't mention it."

Sans makes his way over to the counter by the stove, and Gaster turns to face him.

"Is pasta alright?"

"Yeah. You don't have to cook any for me-"

"I'm afraid it's already in the pot, Sans."

"Welp."

Gaster sets the spoon down on top of the saucepan. Sans looks up, and their eyes meet. His cheeks warm, and he looks away.

"Maybe..." Gaster says, quietly. Sans looks back over to him. "Maybe, don't do it again, if you could? Drinking that much is a little ridiculous, on any given night, but..." he sighs and turns back to the pot. "But especially when you work the next morning, it's a little unfair."

"I'm sorry. I don't even know why I drank that much liquor," he lies. That part he does remember, feeling like shit after what June said at the bar. After Gaster left like that, Sans just kind of sank into a panic, and started downing shots to try and burn it away. "I'll... try and keep it to the weekend, from now on, okay?"

"I'd rather you- I mean- I just thought you'd taken my advice about limiting yourself seriously."

Sans slumps against the counter, trying not to let his guilt show on his face.

They silently wait for the noodles to finish boiling. Gaster starts cooking some sort of creamy sauce in a separate pan, summoning another set of magical hands to help him out. Sans isn't sure if he should offer to help or not, with a set of disembodied hands working more capably than he could manage, he thinks. Eventually Gaster does ask him to pull a couple of bowls out of a nearby cupboard, and he manages not to disappoint.

Gaster dishes them up and they sit at a little table in the kitchen, across from each other as they eat.

"So, how's work going today?" Sans asks. It's any attempt at small talk.

"We're trudging along, business as usual."

"Hm."

"Hm. Larkeet came in with singed feathers on one arm today. She won't talk about what happened, but I bet it was her trying to cook again."

"She okay?"

"Oh, she'll be fine. The feathers will grow back."

"Good. She a bad cook?"

"I don't know, I've never tried her cooking. I think it's called having a survival instinct."

Sans chuckles. "Your cooking's pretty good, though."

Gaster's face fills with color. "I'm glad you think so. I mean I'm no gourmet chef, but I'd like to think I've gotten the hang of a few recipes."

"This is really good. Maybe I can cook for you next time, show my thanks."

"I'd like that."

They finish their meal in relative silence, each holding back a smile.

* * *

 

Their meal finished, dishes in the sink, it's time for Gaster to go back to work. Sans gathers up his clothes and prepares to leave as well, not wanting to overstay his welcome at Gaster's house. He meets the doctor by the front door.

"Hey, thanks, for all this. You didn't have to uh, take care of me the way you did."

"I don't mind at all, Sans. Though, in the future, perhaps it could be under better circumstances."

Sans isn't sure what the doctor means by that. He moves his clothes from one arm to the other. "Yeah," he says, not sure what he's agreeing to.

The two of them stand there, uncomfortably.

"Do you mind if I..." Gaster starts, then trails off.

"Yeah?"

The doctor takes a deep breath, then leans down and kisses Sans right on the mouth with an eagerness that says he's been holding back all day. Sighing in relief, Sans drops the bundle of clothing to the floor and brings his arms up over the back of Gaster's neck.

 _This_ , he thinks, _this is easy. I like this._

Gaster pushes him back into the wall by the door before pulling away. "I don't have time for this," he whispers, "I have to get back."

"I'll teleport you back to the lab," Sans offers.

"...Alright."

Well, that was the flimsiest resistance Sans had ever enountered.

He lets Gaster bring him gently to the floor, in the middle of the living room, and within moments the doctor's hands are up his shirt, feeling the underside of his ribs. He shivers as Gaster's mouth meets him again, hungry for contact. He relaxes under Gaster's touch, ejoying the simple pleasure of making out like this. No worries, just closeness. He doesn't want to think about what was said yesterday, what Gaster thinks of him, the consequences of his actions. He just wants to be pulled close and kissed like it's the last thing he'll ever do.  
Gaster gets between his legs and pushes down with his hips, letting Sans know without words exactly what's on his mind.

Sans moans into Gaster's mouth and squirms. "You got time for that?" he mutters against the doctor's lips.

"Probably not," Gaster responds, breathlessly.

* * *

  
Gaster returns to the labs about twenty minutes late, and immediately sets back to work without apology to his team. He can only hope what he just did doesn't show on his face. He had to change his clothes though. That's a dead giveaway.

Regardless, no one brings it up. He thinks he catches Larkeet giving him a strong side-eye, but when she speaks to him, it's about needing to replace one of their capacitors.

In the midst of work, his mind drifts back to Sans. In his bed, wearing his clothes, sharing a meal with him. It's a pleasant kind of thing, thinking back on it. Of course, like he said, the circumstances could have been better, but...

He's getting ahead of himself, having domestic fantasies about someone who's clearly not his, who couldn't possibly be his partner any time soon.

But the thoughts make him happy, and there's no harm in that.


	15. Why can't we be friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (We probably can!)

"Hello, Wingdings."

Gaster is waiting in line to purchase his groceries when he hears Mollig's voice behind him. He tenses without meaning to, turning slowly to face her, but she wears a pleasant smile on her face. "Hello, Molligander," he responds, "how nice to see you."

"I'm sure."

  
"I mean it's been, well, less than a decade this time, so-"

  
"Yes, much less. What have you been up to, Wingdings?"

  
 _Don't say 'screwing your son', don't say 'screwing your son'!_ "Work."

  
"That's all?"

  
The line moves forward, and so do they.

  
"Yes, well. What about yourself?"

  
She looks away. "Work-"

  
_Aha!_

  
"Spending time with my family, with friends. I still sing on the weekends."

  
"Oh, that's... good to hear."

  
"Is it?" she asks, her head tilted to one side.

  
Gaster looks down to his basketfull of groceries, anything to avoid her gaze. "I'm sorry, Moll," he says, somberly.

  
"Oh. Well, if you're sorry, why don't you come over for dinner, some time?"

  
He whips his head around to look at her, and the smile she wears is as pleasant as if she had asked a friendly aqquaintance for a visit. "I- I mean I'm not _that_ sorry."

  
The line advances again, and it's Gaster's turn to put his groceries up on the counter. He fumbles with a carton of milk. Mollig catches it for him and places it back in his hands.

  
"Don't be silly, Wingdings. I mean, sure you tried to ruin my life decades ago..." The cashier shoots them a worried look. "But that was decades ago. We've both grown up, and I have a family now. A family that you kind of know already. I'd like to put the past behind us."

  
Gaster considers this as he's pulling out his wallet.

  
"Also I think it'd embarrass Sans a little to have his boss over for dinner."

  
"You think?"

  
"I do."

  
He chuckles. She hasn't changed all that much, apparently. But Gaster has. He knows this. He can prove it. And once, long ago, she was his best friend. Maybe they could never get that back, but they could have _something_ again.

  
"I- Oh, alright."

  
"Wonderful! Tuesday, then?"

  
"Tuesday?"

  
"Well, either Tuesday or Thursday. I'm leaving the choice up to you!"

  
"Tuesday it is, then."

  
"I'll have Sansy give you my number, later."

  
"Alright, sure."

  
He pays for his groceries and thanks her for the invitation, bidding her farewell while she's putting her own up on the counter.

  
On his way out, all he can think is that Sans is going to hate them for this.

* * *

 

Sans stands in front of the door to Juneborg's apartment early Saturday afternoon, right on schedule, and is greeted with:

"Ohhh my gossshshshshshhsh, Sans! I'm reallysorryforwhatisaidaboutyouatthebaronThursdayIwasreallyreallydrunkandIwasn'tthinkingIjust-"

"Sorry, one more time, but slower?" he asks, holding up one hand to stop her before she can hug him.

"I'm really sorry for what I said, Thursday at the bar," she repeats, clearing the static out of her voice. "I got really drunk, and it was rude. Incredibly rude. I wasn't thinking."

"Eh, it happens. No hard feelings."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

She sighs in relief. "Why don't you come on in, then? I meant to apologize to you on Friday, but you weren't at work, and I don't think I have your number."

"I can give it to you, no worries."

"Okay."

She leads him to her room, and within ten minutes they're settled in, her desklight turned to illuminate her exposed chest, components and all. Sans pays close attention as she goes over one more time what needs to be done today.

Unable to disconnect her torso from her power supply, she advises him to be careful when unhooking any of her components. And so he is. Meticulous and careful, he follows her instructions, disconnects the necessary parts, and cleans them out, making sure everything's screwed in properly when he puts it back.

  
"So uh, why didn't _we_ ever hang out in college?" he asks. "I think I saw you a handful of times around campus, and I knew a bunch of people who knew you."

  
"You actually hooked up with a lot of my friends."

  
"Heh. 's that why?"

  
"Oh, not at all! It's just I'm a bit older than you, and I was getting ready to graduate the year you started. It's not really the time for making new friends, you know?"

  
"Makes sense."

  
"Plus, I was going through some drama, and just having a rough time overall. I don't know. College wasn't as fun for me as it probably was for you."

"Not so sure about that. I did work my ass off, the whole time I was there. Just _had_ to graduate early. I mean yeah, I fooled around a lot, but it was mostly just blowing off steam."

"And blowing other things?"

"You should install something that makes those eyebrows wiggle at supersonic speeds, June."

"Oh my god, you're right. I should do that. It totally wouldn't be a waste of energy or space."

"Definitely. Shit." He drops the screw he was putting in, and spends a moment searching for it on the floor while June waits, immobile lest she jostle something else out of place.

  
"But like, anyways," she says, once he returns to his chair and resumes, "So we weren't friends in college. We could be friends now, though."

  
"Yeah, we could."

  
"And as your friend I promise not to reveal any more embarrassing information about you."

  
"Heh. As if you've got any more."

  
She pulls her antennae back and makes a high pitched whirring noise. "Wellllllll, no. Not yet."

  
He laughs. Then a thought comes to him.

  
"So uh, since we're friends, could I ask your advice on something?"

  
"Go for it."

  
"Well," He takes a deep breath, "There's this guy I like a lot, right? Regular crush stuff. And for the longest time, I thought it'd just be unrequited forever, 'cause he's like, _way_ out of my league. But then we hooked up. I mean, some stuff happened before that. Failed attempts at flirting on my part, and I dont' know _what_ he was doing. Then we hooked up, and now it's like... I THINK he likes me. Acts like he does, sometimes. But other times..."

  
"So, he's sending you mixed signals?"

"You have no idea. I'm used to a more polite, casual atmosphere when I hook up with someone. We go in, we have fun, we chill for a bit after, then one of us leaves. But he's a total romantic about everything. It's nuts. It's like... making love with someone you barely know."

  
June hums thoughtfully. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

  
"Not in the way you might expect." He sets his screwdriver down on the table next to him. "I like it. A lot. But he doesn't want a relationship. Or I guess, we can't have one. So it's gotta stay this casual thing."

"Yikes."

"Yeah. It feels really sweet, but for what it is, it's intense. I dont' really know how to handle it. And maybe he doesn't like me as much as I like him, maybe he's like this with all his partners. If so, I feel kind of bad for enjoying the attention so much. It's like I'm getting off on something he doesn't know he's giving me. I uh..." His face flushes with color. "Sorry, that's probably too much information."

  
"Oh, it's fine. I mean, that sucks though? Why can't you two have a relationship?"

"Heeeeeeeee doesn't want anyone to know," he says, softly.

"Sans, that's kind of-"

"I know."

"Sketchy as hell."

"I know. He's got his reasons though."

"Who is this guy, anyway?"

"My uh. My 'mystery man'. Can we call him that?"

"I guess."

"I just don't know if I should keep this going. I mean, I like him. I like what we're doing. I don't like how we're going about it, but. It feels nice. Really nice."

"I don't know what to tell you. I wouldn't keep something like that up, personally."

  
"Yeah." He drums his fingers against his thigh.

  
"On the other hand, don't feel bad about enjoying the attention he gives you. Maybe he enjoys it just as much as you."

  
"You think?"

  
"I mean, he wouldn't be doing it if he hated it, would he?"

  
"Well, probably not, no."

  
"I don't know if you're as affectionate as he is, but maybe you could try returning it, see how he reacts. If he says you're being too intimate all of a sudden, he might just not realize how affectionate he's being with you."

"That's... yeah." The thought of matching Gaster's level of affection in bed fills Sans with a kind of nervous dread. He's not sure he can confidently do something like that.

  
"And, you know, you could always just... talk to him about it."

"I... we talk."

"Have you told him you're getting mixed signals?"

"Not in so many words."

"Hm."

"June."

"Talk to him."

"Let's just forget this, let's get back to fixing you, yeah?"

"Maintenance. I'm not broken."

"Right. So where were we? Your thermo-regulator? That what this is?"

"Sure."

He pulls the toolkit closer to him, looking over it carefully. "Thanks, for letting me talk about this guy," he says.

"Thanks for helping me with maintenance," she replies. "I really hope things work out for the two of you."

"I hope so too."

* * *

 

Several hours later, as the two of them are wrapping up, Sans's phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and checks for a new message. He isn't expecting what he sees.

"What's wrong?" June asks. The surprise must show too clearly on his face.

"He's coming over to my parents' house for dinner, this Tuesday," he says, still staring at the screen.

"Who? Your mystery man?"

"Gaster."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmmg this chapter changed a lot from what I had plannnnnnnnnned.


	16. Smiley-face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is.... an incredibly short chapter, after such a long break. But this is just an update to let everyone know that this story isn't dead, and I'm not going to abandon it before it's finished. A lot has happened irl since the last chapter, and I had to restart this one from scratch, /and/ get back into the swing of writing again. 
> 
> Next chapter will be longer, smuttier, and up by the end of this week. Thanks to everyone for your patience!

Sans bids goodbye to Juneborg and teleports home, dialing Mollig's cell number immediately when he gets there. His foot taps impatiently against the floor while the line rings.

"Y'hello Sansy!"

"Mom, did you invite G- Dr. Gaster over for dinner?"

"Oh, yes! I was just going to text you about that, but I guess Wingdings beat me to it?"

"Wingdings..."

"Yep, we're having him over for dinner this Tuesday night! I'd like it if you showed up as well, but if you're busy- Well, I haven't told Verdie yet, either. Oh gosh, if she ducks out you'll have to keep her company for me."

"Why would she duck out?"

Mollig giggles. "Verdie hates him, sweetie."

"Wh-"

"I'm going to be making a roast, with cattail roots. You should come."

"I- Yeah. _Why_ are you doing this?"

She hums a little tune in response.

"Mom?"

"Well, Gaster and I used to be close friends. We had a falling out decades ago, but now that I have the opportunity, I'd like to be his friend again. He's not all bad, you know?"

Sans chuckles. "Sure. It's just kind of weird, he's uhhhhhh... my boss. And all that." _And more._ "I mean I'll be there, though. Wouldn't miss it."

"Oh, wonderful! I knew you couldn't resist roasted cattail roots."

"Yeah."

"Alright, well, I've got to go, sweetie. Take care, okay? I love you!"

"Yeah, I love you too, Mom."

He hangs up and sinks down into his bed.

 _Gaster's coming over to my parents' house, having dinner with my family..._ if circumstances were even slightly different, Sans would be damn near giddy over the thought of his crush coming over for dinner, or meeting his parents.

But Gaster was going to be there as his boss, as an aqquaintance of his mother.

Annnd, as the enemy of his other mother, for some unknown reason.

Sans knows there's no way this is going to turn out well.

On his phone, he brings up Gaster's message and finally types out a reply:

_**'Cool :)'** _

* * *

  
The weekend flies by much too quickly for Gaster's taste, but by Monday morning everything has slowed to a crawl. Gaster sits at his desk, certain he's going to die of boredom before the end of the day.

The blast cannon is nearing completion, but at the pace they're going it will be another few months before they can even test it out. He leans back into his chair, and casts a stealthy glance across the room, at Sans. The young skeleton is working diligently, focused as Gaster's ever seen him. Gaster slumps in his seat, more than a little envious. He's anxious about his upcoming dinner engagement with Mollig, and the rest of Sans's family, but Sans himself doesn't seem to see it as a big deal, and hasn't spoken a word to Gaster about it since Saturday.

  
 _Perhaps he doesn't see it as a big deal_ , Gaster thinks. This isn't about the two of them, it's not as if he's Sans's boyfriend, meeting his parents for the first time. No, he's there to catch up with an old friend. And that old friend's overly-protective, grumpy little spouse. And their children, one of whom Gaster has recently bedded. At least his interaction with the other son will be on neutral ground. He thanks his stars for that.

This will be fine, he assures himself.

He casts another glance in Sans's direction, and happens to catch Sans looking his way. The young skeleton smiles, then turns his attention back to his work.

Gaster can't help but smile as well.

 

 


	17. Filler Text

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back for real!

"I still need to get that address from you," Gaster whispers, amidst their Tuesday-morning work.

Sans digs a small piece of paper out of his labcoat pocket, and hands it to Gaster without looking at him. The doctor takes the paper and unfolds it, looking it over. He's fairly certain he knows that area of the capitol well enough to find the place, that shouldn't be a problem.

He slips the paper into his own coat pocket, eyeing the back of Sans's head. "Is everything alright?" he asks.

"Yep."

"Are you-"

"Yeah, Doc. I'm sure. By the way, I think the printer's busted. The right half of anything you send to it won't print."

"Wh- Alright, I'll look into that."

He spends most of the workday fiddling with it. After a few hours, he's far too frustrated to focus, and there's still a blank stripe down the center of each test page he prints. Finally, he decides to fetch Juneborg.

"Oh yeah, this is kind of a delicate thing," June says, peering into the printer. "Here, hold on, I can just..."

Gaster watches her tiny fingers move, prying open a piece of the machine that he hadn't considered to be part of the problem. He wonders why he didn't just ask her to fix this to begin with.

"So," she says, her attention focused on repositioning some tiny mechanism, "You're having dinner at Sans's place, tonight?"

He wasn't expecting that to be a topic of conversation between them. "Y-yes," he mumbles, "I'm guessing Sans must have told you about that?"

"Sort of! He was just leaving my place when he got the news. You should have seen the look on his face, Dr. Gaster. Looked like he sat on a ghost or something. I bet he's really nervous."

"Ha..." Gaster stares across the room, turning that information over in his head. No doubt Sans wasn't visibly excited about their dinner; surely it wasn't something he was dreading?

"Anyways," June continues, "I think it'd be killer if you had dinner at my place, some time, too. My family's great."

"Oh, I don't doubt it."

"Ooh, or like, we could have a group dinner, with all the lab staff and their families!"

"That's... at least fifteen people," Gaster grumbles.

"Yeah, and?"

"No thank you."

Her laughter sounds like the printer malfunctioning again, and for a moment Gaster is worried.

"Maybe I'll organize something around the holidays. I'm sure Sans's family is a real hoot, if they're anything like him."

The printer revs up, slowly pushing out a full page of filler text. The entirety of the page is visible, neat and dark as it should be. "Ta-daaa!" she sings, wiggling her hands at the printer.

"Thank you very much, June. I'm sorry for pulling you away from your work for this."

"Pshhh, don't sweat it! I'm going to need to print out what I'm working on later, anyway. This saves me time and paper, in the long run!"

"I suppose so." He begins to clean up the area as she leaves. Gaster had his suspicions, but finding out that Sans is that uncomfortable with him coming over twists his insides a bit. _Perhaps he's just embarrassed by his parents, as Mollig suggested,_ the doctor assures himself.   
  
He drums his fingers against the printer, staring at the wall ahead of him.

_But not me! I'm not embarrassing!_

_Does he think I'm embarrassing?_

The two of them have something to discuss before dinner.

* * *

"Shouldn't you be going home and getting ready?" Sans asks, when Gaster confronts him upstairs in the office at the end of the day.

Gaster tenses at the tone of the question. "N-no, I still have a couple of hours before I'm expected! Shouldn't YOU-"

"Look, Doc, what's up?"

The doctor swallows the lump in his throat. "Are you nervous about this dinner?" he asks, getting to the point of the matter. He braces himself for Sans's response.

"Aren't you?" Sans replies.

"Why would I be?"

"Apparently one of my moms hates you, Doc. Flat out. And the other just invites you over for dinner after not speaking to you after all these years? And you're not worried?"

"Of course not," Gaster lies. Verdana has a terrifying temper, and Gaster supposes after all this time she still knows how to hold a grudge. But with Mollig there to keep her in check, he doesn't think he's in any danger. Unless one or both of them were to find out about his recurring trysts with Sans. He would be dusted so fast he'd not have time to feel it. "At least I won't have to worry about making a good first impression," the doctor jokes. "We're well past that, your mothers and I. But if Mollig insists she'd like to put the past behind her, I trust her on that. I'll do my best not to ruin our friendship a second time. No, wait, third? Yes, definitely not a third time."

Sans sputters.

Gaster reaches out and pats him on the shoulder. "If drama's all you're worried about, then I promise I won't provoke Verdana into sending a volley of bones at me from across the table."

"That's... not all I'm worried about." Sans looks away. Gaster is sure he spots a hit of color on the young skeleton's cheekbone. "It's still kind of weird, even if you get along with them. I mean, not a bad-weird. It's just kind of a reminder of how much uh, older than me you are, I guess."

Gaster's heart sinks a little. "Is that something that bothers you?" he asks.

"Well, no, it doesn't bother me! Just, if they ever found out about what's going on, they'd be furious. With both of us. Not that they're ever going to find out, but you get what I mean." The color on his face deepens, and something clicks into place for Gaster.

"You want them to approve of me."

The lights disappear from Sans's sockets, and he turns his face away so Gaster can no longer see it.

"Am I correct? If things ever became serious between us, you would want your parents' approval." He places his hand back on Sans's shoulder and pulls him closer, leaning over him to get a better view of his face. "That's incredibly sweet of you, Sans."

The skeleton flinches. "That's not what this dinner is about," he says, sharply. Oh, his face is full-on-flushed now.

Gaster leans down until his lips brush under Sans's jaw. "That doesn't mean I won't try my best," he whispers.

He can feel the heat of Sans's humiliation rising.

"Doc, really. I'm not after their approval," Sans insists. Gaster would almost believe him if he weren't shaking right now. "And I'm not under any delusions that this'd ever become something-" he falters "something they'd approve _of._ "

The doctor pulls away and Sans turns to face him. The lights in his eyes return slowly, and Gaster meets his stare with silence.

"I'm uh, going to go get ready," Sans mumbles. "Get dressed, shower, brace for impact. Maybe have a drink to loosen up. That sort of thing. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

"Not yet, please."

"I mean, I still have to clean up my desk before I go home."

Gaster sighs. "Sans I'm sorry I cannot change our circumstances. I would, in a heartbeat if I could. Despite that, I hope that in the future-"

The lights in Sans's eyes dim again. "I'm really not all that worried about the future here, Doc."

"What?"

"Don't worry about it. Let's just enjoy what we have, while we have it, yeah? And try not to let it slip to them what's going on behind the scenes." He grins, giving Gaster a casual shrug as he speaks. But his dark, lightless eyes convey a different tone than the rest of his body language. Gaster considers the subject dropped, for now.

"I suppose that would be best, for tonight," the doctor says, softly.

Sans turns back to his desk. "Give me a call if you need directions to my folks' place."

"I will, thank you. Try not to drink too much, before you get there. There's loosening up, and then there's getting _tight_."

"Heh. You think whiskey's too _risky_ , then?"

Gaster smiles. "You could give it a _shot_ , but don't go overboard."

The sincere grin Sans flashes him makes him feel warm. Sans opens his mouth, no doubt with some witty retort, but Gaster gets an idea and cuts him off.

"Actually, I think I know of a better way to calm your nerves," he says.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." He takes a step closer to Sans, who makes no effort to back away. He takes another, slowly closing the short distance between them. "Perhaps it could help us both, even."

"I thought you weren't nervous about this whole thing."

"You've given me something to think about."

Sans leans into him as they kiss, and Gaster can feel the tension in him buzzing, even as his posture relaxes. He plants one hand on the small of Sans's back, pulling him closer, and brings the other up to stroke the skeleton's cheek. Sans whimpers into his mouth, gripping Gaster by the waist.

"Doc," he mumbles against Gaster's lips, "this isn't really calming me down."

"Oh no. I suppose we'll just keep going until you're too worn out to worry, " Gaster says, sweetly.

"We've got less than two hours," Sans reminds him. "At this point, Liquor would be quicker."

"Yes, well, I doubt it would be half as satisfying."

****  
Gaster pulls him in for another deep kiss, relishing the taste of his tongue. He feels Sans's hands moving down his back, towards his ass, and smiles, breaking their kiss for a moment.

"Undressing would make this easier, wouldn't it?" he asks.

"Maybe a little," Sans admits, rubbing his hands over the fabric of Gaster's labcoat. They part briefly and Gaster slips his coat off his shoulders, watching Sans to the same. Gaster then eyes the young skeleton's trousers. "These too?" Sans asks playfully, sticking his thumbs in the pockets.

Gaster smiles. "If you think you'd enjoy yourself more with them on, be my guest," he says, unzipping his own pants slowly. He backs up to Sans's office chair and pulls them halfway down his thighs before sitting down. His erection is throbbing, covered only by the fabric of his boxers. Sans's jaw goes slack.

The skeleton slides his pants down to his ankles and kicks them off. Casting a glance off to the side, he does the same with his underpants, revealing the thick bones of his pelvis.

Gaster's dick throbs at the sight, and he motions to his lap. Sans climbs up onto it, straddling the doctor's clothed thighs with his own bare femurs. The doctor runs his fingers over the smooth bone. "You're gorgeous," he whispers.

Sans shakes a little, wrapping his arms over Gaster's shoulders. He lowers his pelvis until his pubis is pressing into the shaft of Gaster's dick, and begins to rock his hips back and forth.

The doctor shudders at the sensation, on the brink of pain. He grips Sans's femurs more tightly, and is surprised when he feels a foreign wetness soak into the fabric of his boxers. He glances down to the dripping pussy Sans has conjured, and raises one eyebrow.

Sans halts his ministrations. "Is this okay?" he asks nervously.

"I can't believe you're this wet already," Gaster whispers, bringing one hand down to stroke the soft appendage.

His fingers slide across the slick lips easily, and he runs them back and forth a few times, pressing them just slightly into Sans's entrance, getting a feel for it while Sans presses his face down into Gaster's shoulder, attempting to stifle a moan.

Gaster chuckles and pulls at the elastic of his boxers, finally freeing his erection. He guides Sans's hips closer, until his dripping entrance is right over the head of his cock. He hesitates for only a moment, enjoying the brief anticipation before he lets Sans slide down onto him, enveloping his dick in a tight, cool wetness that makes him gasp.

"Fuck," he groans, wrapping his arms around Sans's back. He pulls his lover close, pressing his forehead into Sans's shoulder as he bottoms out inside him. Sans trembles against him, whispering his name in a tantalizing way.

They move slowly, Sans rocking his hips as Gaster tentatively thrusts upwards into him. Gaster feels himself growing warm, beginning to sweat with Sans pressed tightly against his chest. He wants badly to kiss his lover, but the soft whispers that alternate between 'Gaster' and 'Please' are pushing him close to the edge, and he doesn't want them to stop.

Sans's fingers dig into his back through the fabric of his shirt, and he bites down into Gaster's shoulder, muffling his own voice. He pulls his hips up and holds them there for a moment. He's close; they both are, Gaster knows it.

They also don't have as much time left as he'd like.

He grabs Sans by the legs and holds him, carefully standing to change their position.

"Whoah, what are you doing?" Sans asks, clinging to him tightly.

"Finishing this up, if that's quite alright." Gaster takes a few steps forward and lowers Sans onto the desk. Shifting the both of them to get a better angle. Sans chuckles as their mouths meet, and Gaster begins to thrust into him more forcefully.

Sans gasps, and his legs lock behind Gaster's back, pulling him closer. Gaster pushes in as deeply as he can go, and feels Sans tense tightly around him. After a few more deep thrusts, he stills, cumming while Sans twitches around his cock.

He kisses Sans on the temple, on the cheek, at the corner of his jaw, and is surprised when Sans turns to kiss him back, pressing his teeth gently against Gaster's cheek with a gentle click of his tongue. They stay close for a few moments, catching their breath, before Gaster pulls out of him gently.

Sans is a beautiful wreck, sitting on the edge of his desk, covered in sweat and filled with cum. He smiles sleepily at Gaster. "Thanks, Doc," he pants.

"You're quite welcome." Gaster helps him down from the desk, and helps pull his pants back up onto his shaking legs. "I hope you've calmed down a little, now," he adds, wiping sweat from his forehead. He certainly feels calmer.

"I... yeah, actually." The young skeleton laughs breathlessly. "Fuck, I'm gonna have to stay awake through this dinner, that's gonna be fun.

"Make sure you get cleaned up beforehand. I don't think it's acceptable to show up to a meal in the state you're in," Gaster says with a smile.

"Heyyyy, same to you."

****

Gaster pulls him close, wrapping his arms around Sans's shoulders. Sans wraps his own arms around Gaster's waist.

They stand still for a few minutes, listening to one another breathe, enjoying the warmth of it, before Sans finally pulls away.

"Good luck at dinner tonight," he says, his face flushed."I uh, hope things go well. For your sake. And Moll's."

"Thank you. I hope so, too."

 


	18. Dinner with the Thegret-Calibris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hhhhheyyyyyyy, guyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyys! I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to update this. If you're not following me on tumblr and don't know what's happening, I got a second job, and I'll be working a lot from now on. I'm not going to abandon this fic though! I'm going to try and finish it as quickly as I can, however I can! I'd say we have maybe five more chapters to go after this one?   
> However, after this is done I'm going to be taking a loooong break from writing fics, so I can work on an original thing for a bit. I might end up posting THAT to AO3 too, but I'm not sure yet.   
> Thanks so much to those of you who have kept following this story, despite that it doesn't update consistently at ALL!!! ILYSM.

Mollig answers the door in a manner far more cheerful than Gaster could have ever expected from her.

"Wingdings!!! I'm so happy you could make it! Please, come in."

Her volume makes Gaster wonder if her cheerful shouting was meant less as a greeting to him, and more as a signal to the rest of her family that company had arrived. When he enters, he spots Verdana at the table, with her back turned to him, laying out plates with her shoulders hunched. He supposes he might have interrupted some conversation between them.

"I suppose we're just waiting on Sans, now," Mollig adds, glancing out the door before shutting it behind the both of them.

"That boy can teleport, can't he?" Verdana asks, finally turning around. "He _better_ be here on time." She crosses her arms and leans against the table, sparing Gaster the briefest of glances. "Doctor Dingus," she greets him.

"Well well, if it isn't the Calcium Cun-"

"Papyrus!" Mollig calls out, cutting him off, "Why don't you get out here and say hello to our guest?" She shoots a pointed look at both Gaster and her wife.

A door opens down the hall, and out steps Gaster's one hope for a normal evening, the only member of this family with whom he is on neutral ground.

The tall, lanky young skeleton steps toward him cautiously.

"Ah, you must be Papyrus, Sans's younger brother!" Gaster says jovially, offering his hand for the young monster to shake.

"Yes, and you're his boss, Doctor Gaster?" Papyrus asks, quietly.

"I am indeed. Also, I was friends with your mother, Mollig, years and years ago."

Papyrus tilts his head to the side. "Was?" he asks. "I didn't know you could just stop being friends with someone."

Aaaaaand there goes his hope for making a good first impression. Gaster chuckles nervously. Luckily, Mollig comes to his rescue.

"Gaster, dinner won't be ready for another ten minutes or so. Would you like some tea while we wait?" she asks.

"Ah, please, if you dont' mind."

He accepts the steaming hot cup she offers him gratefully, and sits down on the couch with it while she and her wife head to the kitchen. Papyrus sits down on the opposite end of the sofa, quietly playing with a puzzle toy. "It's a long story," Gaster says quietly, finally answering Papyrus's earlier statement. He ignores the sideways glance Papyrus shoots him, instead sipping at his tea and taking a good look at the room around him.

The room is cozy and warm, the furniture apparently having been acquired as was convenient over the years, with no thought to spacial design whatsoever. Photographs cover the walls, portraits of the happy family Gaster wasn't even aware existed until recently. He spots mementos of milestones in his former friend's life, moments that he missed out on celebrating with her.

A portrait of Sans, young and small and covered in finger paint, stands out to him and he winces. He can't help but wonder how his relationship with the young skeleton would have differed had he known Sans from the beginning, watched him grow up into the young man he is today. Chances are, he'd never have taken him to bed had he been on closer terms with the boy's parents. He squirms in his seat. _Hopefully_ , he thinks, _things between us won't change after tonight_.

He hears the oven door open off in the kitchen, and the smell of whatever it was that Mollig is cooking wafts quickly throughout the house, making Gaster's stomach rumble in anticipation.

As if on cue, the front door opens, and Sans enters with a jolly "Heya, hope I'm not late!"

Gaster perks up at his arrival, a warm smile spreading quickly across his face before he can help it. His expression falters, however, when he notices that Sans is wearing the shirt the doctor had given him. He has no time to address the situation before Mollig's voice rings out from the kitchen, announcing that dinner is ready to be served.

* * *

 

Sans spends far too long trying to wash the smell of liquor from his breath, and barely makes it in the front door before his mom announces that dinner's ready. He sighs, relieved, then catches the worried look Gaster shoots him from across the room. He's pretty sure it's impossible for the doctor to know he'd gone and drank anyway, but a cold pang of fear clenches his core, muting the warm comfort the alcohol should have brought with it.

He turns his attention to Papyrus, and greets him loudly, hoping to distract himself as much as anyone else in the room. His brother raises a brow at him, and offers back only a muted 'Hi' in response before standing from the couch and making his way to the table.

Gaster stands as well, and with a strained smile he follows Papyrus to the table and takes his seat, leaving an empty space for Sans between himself and Papyrus.

With a deep breath, Sans takes his place at the table, and dinner begins.

Mollig is without a doubt the best cook in the family, and the buttery, springy flavor of the roasted cattail is, in Sans's opinion, worth every minute they all spend choking on the heavy silence in the room. However, she is _not_ the best at making small-talk.

"Soooo," she begins, "How has work been going?"

Gaster, having just taken a large bite of food, is unable to respond immediately. Everyone is left waiting several seconds for his response while he quickly chews his food.

"It's um, it's going alright, how about yourself?"

Sans and Papyrus both groan. This conversation is already going nowhere.

"Well, you know, it's um. It's alright I suppose. It's work. You know."

"Indeed."

"For fuck's sake," Verdana whispers loudly. "We are not falling into a loop of 'How's work how's the family my what lovely weather!' Specific topics, or don't talk at all. Sans!"

The young skeleton nearly drops his fork.

"Two questions. Why did you show up to a nice dinner looking like that? And where the hell did you even get that shirt?"

Sans feels Gaster grow tense, sitting rigidly beside him.

"You recognize it too, don't you, Gaster?" she continues, "Our old computer club shirt, from school?"

"Hm?" Gaster turns and gives Sans a quick look-over. "Oh, it is, isn't it? Goodness, I haven't seen mine in so long, i almost forgot what they looked like! Where _did_ you get that, Sans?" he asks with one brow raised.

Oh. "I um. Thrift store?" Sans says with a shrug.

Verdana accepts his answer readily. "Wow, what a blast from the past. It suits you, though."

"Th-thanks?" Sans looks down at himself, pretending to stare at his own clothing while he carefully ignores the stares of those around him. "I had no idea you and Gaster were in the same computer club. Highschool? College?"

"High school," Mollig replies fondly. "That's how I met Verdie, believe it or not. She was a friend of Gaster's then."

"Barely," Gaster and Verdana mutter in unison.

"Maybe not as _close_ as he and I were, but they got along well enough."

"What happened?" Papyrus asks.

The three older monsters exchange glances, their faces washed in expressions of regret and nostalgia.

"Well, it was so long ago, I hardly remember," Verdana mutters, shoving a large forkfull of food into her mouth.

"I suppose it's not really important," Mollig adds with a wink.

Gaster smiles sadly. "I suppose not."

"Tch. So many secrets," Papyrus mumbles, shuffling his food around on his plate.

Verdana's rule of specific topics lets the group's dinner conversation carry on well-past dinner. Mollig and Verdana talk about what it was like to raise their two sons. (much to said sons' embarrassment) and Sans and Gaster share what they're working on, deep in the hotland labs. Papyrus engages eagerly in conversation about the cannon, clearly fascinated by the inner workings of such a weapon. Sans feels a swell of pride as he listens to Pap's conversation with Gaster.

Eventually, Mollig asks Gaster about his love life. Specifically, if he's ever settled down with anyone.

Sans holds his breath, looking anywhere but Gaster as his pulse goes wild.

"Well, no, not really," Gaster responds casually. Too casually. "I suppose I just haven't been all that interested in romance until recently."

"Or romance hasn't been interested in you?" Verdana asks dryly.

"I've been busy providing the Underground with reliable electricity and trying to break us out of this prison," Gaster quips back. "Perhaps once I'm successful in that endeavor, and we're all living happily on the surface, I'll give the whole 'dating' thing a shot. Otherwise, I'm afraid I just don't have the time to devote to someone else."

"Ugh. Sansy? Pappy? Don't take after Dr. Dingus, here," She says, rolling her eyes. "If your job becomes your life and you've got time for nothing else, you're doing it wrong."

"There's nothing wrong with going solo though!" Mollig assures everyone at the table, "Sans, Papyrus, there's nothing wrong with not having a partner. Just, you know, if you DO decide to date someone, even if it's nothing serious, it'd be nice to know. Bring them home and let Verdie and I meet them?"

"Heh. Sure, Mom," Sans mumbles, looking away.

* * *

  
After dinner, Sans and Papyrus are 'asked nicely' to clear the table and clean the dishes, while the three elder monsters head to the living room to continue catching up.

Sans marvels at how well the dinner actually went, without any real arguments and no broken bones. Maybe, he thinks, there wasn't anything to worry about in the first place.

"You like him, don't you?" Papyrus asks quietly, without looking up from the plate he's drying.

"What?" Sans asks, a chill running through him. He dips his hands back into the warm sink water, rooting around for the spoon he saw earlier.

"Dr. Gaster? You were blushing throughout most of the dinner, and you kept looking over at him and smiling."

Sans's pulse races. He's sure that's not right, but he wasn't paying enough attention to his own expression to refute that with any certainty. "Uh, no? That was-" He looks over his shoulder and drops his voice to a whisper. "If you promise not to tell Mom or Mother, I actually had a _little_ bit to drink before dinner tonight, that's why my face was so warm."

"Oh, really?"

"Shush." He can feel the blush creeping back over his face, but he keeps his attention trained on the spoon that he finally fishes out of the water, scrubbing it more thouroughly than necessary.

"Well," Papyrus mumbles, clearly not convinced, "He certainly seems to like you."

The spoon drops from his hands, and Sans flinches as the warm, soapy water splashes him in the face.


	19. My house

"Why- Listen, Gaster is my boss, what in the world makes you think he- I mean, he just doesn't. Like, there's not a discussion to be had here. And I don't, either."

Papyrus shrugs, placing a plate casually in the cupboard and reaching for another to dry. "The way he looks at you reminds me of how you look at pizza," he explains, "and he was looking at you a lot throughout the dinner."

"Well, he and I already get along, he was probably just glad to have someone familiar sitting next to him, Paps. Someone he doesn't need to impress."

" _Except_ , when Mom asked about his love life," his brother continues, disregarding anything Sans had said. "He got tense. And he kept fidgeting, and glancing at you, and looking away. Honestly, you looked a bit nervous, yourself. You still look nervous, now."

"I- that's ridiculous, Paps. You've been reading too many of those girly comic books. Anyway, Gaster's a busy guy, and like he said, he's probably been way too preoccupied for romance." Sans was usually rather proud of his brother's knack for observation, for reading a situation thoroughly. It was a skill he himself tried to emulate. But right now, he wishes that skill would jump in a lake.

"It certainly is ridiculous, Pappy." The deep voice that resonates behind them makes both Sans and his brother jump in surprise. Verdana leans in the doorway to the kitchen, holding a near-empty cup of tea on a saucer.

Sans feels a knot forming in his throat as he turns to face her. Soapy water drips down from his phalanges to the floor, and he quickly dries them on his pants while she stares him down.

"Why do you say that?" Papyrus asks, barely containing his indignation.

Verdana smiles in response, and Sans winces. He knows that look. Papyrus is about to learn that sometimes, even when you're correct, you're wrong.

"Because," she explains calmly, "Gaster accepted an invitation into this house,  _my_  house, knowing full well that I would be here. More likely than not, he also knows that I disapprove of his presence, and would leap at any excuse to permanently rid him from my life and the lives of those I love. He's got more sense than guts, I think. If he had any concrete reason to fear my wrath, any ammunition to give me, he wouldn't have brought it with him. Sans is my son as much as Moll's, and if I ever find out Gaster did anything that might harm him, that might harm either of you? He'd be dust on the ground, no matter how much of a friend she considers him."

She downs the dregs of her tea and levitates both the cup and saucer across the kitchen, setting them gracefully into the sink. "The fact that he's in that living room, alive, is a mark of his innocence, sweetie. Now, Sans, you've got work in the morning, and Papyrus has school. So when you finish up with the dishes, why don't you come on out and say goodnight?"

Papyrus huffs as she strides out the kitchen, and a cold weight settles in Sans's core as he watches her walk confidently away. It was one thing to boast about how much power she had in her own household, but he knows full-well that Verdana would go to great lengths to protect those she loves. She'd shown that dedication time and time again throughout his and Papyrus's lives, after all. And though the act of outright murder may be a stretch of what she's capable of, dragging someone's reputation through the dusty depths of hell was certainly not out of the question.

He takes his time washing what little is left in the sink, prolonging his limbo in the kitchen by making small-talk with Papyrus to pass the time. He must be visibly shaken, because Papyrus drops the subject of Gaster, and they talk about school instead. Only when they finally finish the dishes, and are about to rejoin the older monsters, does Papyrus bring the topic back.

"I'm sorry for bringing up the idea, earlier. Of you and Gaster being interested in each other, I mean. Romantically."

"It's cool, Paps."

"I didn't realize it was something Mother would be so strongly against."

"Yeah. Heh, don't sweat it."

"He just looked so happy to see you. It's like how our parents look, sometimes. I thought it must be nice."

Sans pauses in the doorway. "It would be, wouldn't it? If it weren't so damn awful."

When they get to the living room, and the other three turn to greet them, Sans watches Gaster's expression and he gets it. The doctor's face lights up, his smile gets bigger and more gentle, and he looks genuinely happy to see the young skeleton. Sans feels that familiar fluttering in his chest, and for once it makes him want to vomit. He glances over to Verdana, who he can tell is watching the two of them closely, silently judging.

"Have you two come to join the conversation?" Gaster asks, cheerfully.

Sans shrugs. "Nah, I better get home for the night. I'll see you at work in the morning."

"Certainly."

He makes his way to the door. "Thanks for dinner, Mom. This was fun. Have a good night, yeah?"

"You too, Sansy! I love you!" Mollig calls out after him.

"I love you," Sans mutters, halfway out the door. He shuts it softly behind him as he leaves.

* * *

  
As he's leaving the liquor store that night, his arms full and his face burning, he doesn't see Juneborg on the path in front of him, and nearly runs into her.

"Woah, hey, Sans!" she calls out, cheerfully, clearly smashed off her ass. "How's it goinG?"

"Oh, hey." He shifts the large paper bag he's holding from one arm to the other. "It's uh. It's goin' okay. What're you doin' out this way?"

"I'm on my way back home from the bar! It was just me and Larkeet tonight. How'd your dinner go?"

"It was fine. You know this is nowhere near where you live, right?"

She gives a metallic hum in response. "Yeah, I thought I'd take a detour tonight. Just felt right, you know?"

"You gonna be okay, June?"

"Are YOU gonna be-" she hiccups "walking me home? Because actually I'd appreciate that."

"Heh. Yeah, why not?" He holds his arm out to her. "I could use a distraction. Want me to teleport you there?"

"Nnnoooooooo, I'll puuuuuuuuke. Let's just walk."

"Alright."

She takes his arm and he leads her away, down the other side of the street. She hums and buzzes happily as they walk, swaying from side to side.

"So," she eventually asks, "what kinds of groceries did you get?"

Sans wraps his other arm tighter around the paper bag he's holding. "It's just booze," he admits, "Booze and a flask."

"Oh. OH! Wait, that's perfect! Do you wanna come over tonight? We could get drunk and talk about boys. And lasers."

"I dunno. You've got a head start."

"Oh, come on!" She pleads, yanking at his arm. "It'll be fun."

"Yeah?"

"Um,  _yeah?_ "

"I mean I guess drinking alone  _is_  kind of depressing."

  
"I know, right? I think I've got a frozen pizza we can eat if you're still hungry."

She keeps chatting as they make their way to her apartment, and Sans lets go of her arm only to check his phone. He finds a text message from Gaster, asking if he wants to come over tonight.

He bites back the stinging in his throat, and slips his phone back into his pocket without replying.


	20. A little birdy told me.

Gaster makes his way to work early, hoping the trek will allieve him of his sleep-deprived grogginess. Waking up every half-hour, hoping for a text back from Sans did him no favors. But this isn't his first time going to work tired, and it won't be his last. Strong coffee and a midday nap do wonders for a busy individual.  
Most of the Underground is in a transitory state this time of the morning, either just waking up or just heading to bed after a long night. The quiet is nice, a good time to reflect.

He's at the lab an hour or two before anyone else will show, which is just how he likes it. Time to mentally prepare himself for a long day, brew up some coffee, and think about just how he's going to tell Sans that he-

"GASTER, YOU OLD FART, SIT THE FUCK DOWN! I'VE GOT THE HOT GOSSIP FOR THE DAY AND YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE IT."

Aaaand there goes his peace, out the door with the arrival of the loudest bird in the underground. "Larkeet," he mumbles, setting his cup down on the counter as she stomps up behind him, "I don't know where you get your energy, but some of us-"

"Shush! You'll never guess who I saw walking home together last night!"

"Probably not, there are thousands of monsters in the underground. Any combination of which could have been out and about."

"So you're not going to even try to guess?"

"What is it exactly that you want from me?"

"Sans and Juneborg! June and Sans, Gaster! Hand in hand! Oh my god it was so cute I almost combusted!"

He rolls his eyes. Larkeet, the brilliant mathmetician that she is, has very little social intelligence. It took her a year to realize that she and her current husband were dating.

"Larkeet, they're friends. He was probably just taking her home before he went home himself." Gaster takes a sip of his coffee. He's got nothing to worry about.

"Yeah? Well, I also overheard them talking, and that's not what it sounded like was... happening... Ugh, words! Anyway!" She flutters closer until she's standing just beside him. "Think about it, Gaster! A lovely young couple comes together over a mutual love of science! And then they discover their love for each other? It's a fucking match, I tell you!"

Gaster takes a long sip of his coffee, scowling down at her to hide his growing nervousness. What exactly did she hear? "Doctor Loraine Larkeet, I will not have you 'shipping' my employees again."

"But I've guessed right three times, THREE MARRIAGES-"

"And you've guessed wrong twenty seven times. Time to stop."

She huffs and stomps her foot on the ground. "Whatever. You just watch. Even without my interference, this one's going to blossom. They've already got so much in common it isn't funny." She marches back to the entrance, Yanks her labcoat down from the hook, and angrily dons it, smoothing it out with so much force that Gaster's surprised she doesn't tear through it.

If Doctor Larkeet hasn't noticed anything between him and Sans, and insists there's something going on between the latter and Juneborg of all people, then he has nothing to worry about.

Nothing at all.

By the time Sans arrives that morning, Gaster's already deeply focused on his work. The gentle tap on the small of his back has him standing ramrod straight in an instant, his pulse racing wildly out of control.

"Oh, hey. Didn't mean to scare ya," the young skeleton mumbles, chuckling. "It's just I'm done with my work for now, I can't finish anything else until Wickett's done with his part. Anything you'd like me to do in the meantime?"

"Well, I, um." Gaster stammers, struggling to make sense of what he's trying to say. He scans his mental checklist of what each of the lab members are currently working on. Chances are, June could use some help welding together the shell of the cannon. It's taking longer than expected, after all. But after Dr. Larkeet's little shipping spree, Gaster is hesitant to pair the two of them together. Why? It's none of his concern.

"Gaster? You ok?"

"Give me a little bit, I'll figure out something for you. In the meantime just..." He takes a deep breath, his thoughts veering off-track. "Did you get my message last night?"

Sans looks like a deer in the headlights. "What message?"

"I um. Nothing, just a text I sent you last night. I was hoping you could come over, so I could talk about something with you."

"Was it something important?"

Gaster feels his throat closing shut.

"Doc? You okay?"

"I love you."

Sans wears the expression of someone stricken, his jaw going slack. Gaster sighs, his veins finally cooling as relief seeps in.

"I wanted to tell you that last night," the doctor reaches out and cups Sans's shoulder, pulls him closer into an embrace. "And to ask- while you're sober- how you might feel about being with me once we reach the surface. I-if you'd like to be mine."

Sans pushes his face into the doctor's chest, and Gaster can feel him trembling like a leaf in the wind.

He mumbles something into the fabric of Gaster's shirt.

"What's that?"

"Nothing," he mutters, pulling away to look the doctor in the eyes. "I just uh. I need some time... to think about it?"

"That's fine," Gaster offers, smiling softly. "Our cannon won't be finished for another few weeks. And then I'm sure there will be a whole diplomatic mess dealing with the humans. But once we're settled up there..."

"Yeah. Once we're settled."

Gaster takes this as affirmation and beams down at his young lover. He feels Sans's fingers creeping up to close around his wrist, and he leans forward to plant a kiss on the skeleton's forehead. And on his cheek. The bridge of his nose. Finally, Sans grabs him by the collar and pulls him in for a deep kiss on the mouth.

He tastes a faint hint of liquor on Sans's tongue. Whatever it was was strong. He huffs and pulls away, his brow raised, but the unspoken look of guilt on Sans's face silences him before the word 'why' has left his lips.

"Sans?" he asks gently.

"Sans!?" a voice echoes from the other end of the hall. "Are you back here?"

In an instant, the young skeleton steps away and vanishes, leaving Gaster alone and shaken. The doctor composes himself as much as he can in a few seconds' time. "No, it's just me," he calls back to her.

She sticks her head through the doorway anyways, glancing around the the room to check for herself. Gaster shrugs, wondering what she was expecting.

"Shoot," she mutters, "I haven't seen him all day. I thought he'd want his phone back."

"His phone?"

"Yeah, he left it at my apartment last night," she sighs. "I guess I'll check upstairs again."

"I'll give it to him," Gaster offers, stepping forward. "I'm sure you have welding to finish."

"Oh? Yeah, I should get back to that. Here." She walks over and digs the cellphone out of her labcoat pocket, placing it in Gaster's outstretched hand. "Thanks, Doctor. Could you tell him I need to talk to him, when he's got a moment?"

Gaster swallows the lump in his throat. "Absolutely."

 

* * *

Sans stands with his back flat against the wall, his breath heavy and the world spinning. His eyes start to burn and he sinks down to the floor, sobbing till he feels like he's going to choke.

 

He shouldn't have told her anything. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose now would be a good time to mention that i had a steamy scene planned for Sans and June before I actually started writing this, but scrapped it about halfway to this point. I couldn't find a good point to place it.


	21. I could really use a friend right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhheyyyyyyyy guyyyyyssssss

The landline for the laboratory rings. Usually that means official business. Someone at the Core has a question, or the king is checking in. When Gaster picks up the phone, he isn't expecting Mollig's voice on the other end.

"Oh! Gaster, hi. It's me."

"Mollig."

"Yeah I just got off work. I um. Gaster, I know you just came over for dinner last night, and you're probably already sick of me but... would you mind joining me for lunch? I guess I've kind of been stewing over something. I need someone to talk to. I could... I could really use a friend, if you've got the time."

"O-of course! Is everything alright, Moll?"

"It's... yeah. I think so, anyway."

"Well, I've got some business to finish up here, and then I'm free for an hour. Let me give you my number."

Gaster sighs when he hangs up the phone. Honestly, as happy as he is to have Mollig back in his life, he doesn't need this right now, not with so much going on. He grips Sans's phone tightly through the fabric of his pocket. He's searched the upper and lower labs thouroughly, with no sign of Sans anywhere. Personal problems aside, there's work to be done. Within a week or two, they should have the cannon ready to fire, if they all could just...

Stay on task...

He decides to just leave the phone on Sans's desk. He can settle his feelings and discipline his employee at a later time, after he's taken care of his friend.

Finding Sans working diligently at his desk, focused as ever, is the last thing Gaster expects when he makes his way upstairs.

"Hey, what's up, Doc?" Sans asks, his attention still locked on the keyboard in front of him.

Gaster sets the cellphone on the corner of the desk.

"Juneborg was looking for you, says you left this at her apartment last night," he says tightly.

Sans stops typing. He still doesn't turn to look at Gaster.

The doctor leans down over the back of the young skeleton's chair, brings his mouth so close to the side of Sans's skull that he might as well be kissing the corner of his jaw. "What is going on?" he whispers.

"Nothing, really," Sans says, turning away. He shrugs and turns back to whatever it was he was typing.

Gaster sighs and backs off. He doesn't have the energy to press further.

"Right, well, if you need me, I have a lunch date that I intend to keep. I'll speak with you later."

"Wh-" Sans sputters indignantly, finally turning in his chair to face the doctor. "With who?" His expression looks stricken as he stares Gaster down.

"Your mom."

"That's really immature."

"I was being serious."

Sans grips the top of his chair tightly. "How about... you don't do that?" he asks with a grimace.

"Is there a good reason why I shouldn't?"

"Wh- no?"

"Alright then. I hope to see you when I get back."

"Yeah..." Sans whispers, looking away. "See ya."

* * *

 

"So, I don't get it," June slurs, holding up a slice of pizza that's positively dripping with grease. "All you do, is you complain about this guy, right?"

Sans shrugs and takes another shot.

"So, yeah, you like him. But it's problem after problem. And you don't seem to be really talking about any of it with him, which is what you should be doing. Why even stick around?"

"I can't just not-"

"Bullshit. You can leave him. And if he's making you think that you can't leave him, then that's when you know you should get the hell away." She pauses to look at all the grease on her fingers. "Gosh, this was a bad idea."

"It's more complicated than that."

"Why? Why can't you just... TALK about any of this? It's gotta be 'vague' this and 'enigmatic' that. Like, why?"

"June... He's become kind of a big part of my life? I can't just get away from him. I don't want to get away from him. I just want this to work and it's like... everything else keeps getting in the way."

"And what is it this time?"

"My mother. Maybe both of my moms."

"Oh dear god. Dude, why do you need their approval? My parents didn't approve of my sister dating that water elemental, but she ended up marrying him and they have three kids now, and my folks just had to learn to deal if they wanted to see their grandkids."

"Wait, do you want me to date this guy or leave him?"

"I want you to figure this the fuck out, because it's making you miserable! We're friends now, and that means I can't let you be miserable." She flops down on the arm of the couch dramatically. "If you'd just talk to him, I swear things would be better."

Sans pours himself another shot and downs it. His throat burns, and he can't tell anymore whether it's just the alcohol, or if he just really needs to cry. "There's no need to talk, we're literally just fucking. There's not a whole lot of conversation involved with that, you know?"

"There should be! You both need to be on the same page, here."

"He's gonna think I'm getting too attached, and he'll call the whole thing off-"

"Sans."

"And then I'll have nothing. He'll pull away and I won't even be able to pretend that he wants me." The tears come rolling out of his eyesockets, and trying to blink them away only makes more spill out. He takes a deep breath through his nasal cavity. "He'll know and he'll have the upper hand like he always does. He'll know how I feel about him and he'll realize what a mistake he's made, letting me get away with this whole thing." He pulls up the collar of his- no, Gaster's- shirt and wipes his eyes, staining it with tears and grease.

June lays a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently. "You don't really know what's going to happen, Sans. That sounds like THE worst case scenario. More likely, you two are going to find that you have a lot to discuss, and you'll discuss it. And then- look at me- then you'll understand each other a little better. And whatever relationship you have with him will probably be stronger. Don't get hung up on the worst likely outcome."

He laughs bitterly, biting back the stinging in his throat. "Even if I get things worked out with him, there's still everyone else to worry about. There's no good outcome here."

"Would your parents really be that upset?"

"Why don't we find out?"

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials Mollig's number.

****  
Mollig has already picked out a table and gotten seated by the time Gaster arrives at the quaint little diner where she asked him to meet her. "Thank you so much for coming," she says as he takes his seat, "Lunch is on me, I just... really needed to talk to someone, and I thought, well, since we're newly re-acquainted... ugh." She slumps down in her seat. "I'm sorry."

Gaster reaches across the table, laying his hand over hers. "I don't mind at all, Moll," he assures her. "What's on your mind?"

"Why don't you go ahead and order, and then we'll talk? I need to get my thoughts sorted out."

She waits until the waitress comes back with their coffee before she continues her train of thought. "I don't know if it's my place to ask you this, but... have you noticed anything... off about Sans, lately?"

Gaster pauses with the rim of his coffee cup pressed to his lips. "What do you mean?"

"I mean all around, in general? At work, outside of work? I know you spend some time with him at the bar. I just want to know if he seems any different lately? If maybe he seems troubled? Or maybe you've seen someone flirting with him while you're out at the bar?"

He sets the cup back down. "Not that I've noticed," he replies carefully, "What brings this on?"

"I'm just... He called me last night while I was at work. And I knew right away that he'd been drinking, but he'd also been crying. When I asked, he said he was over at a friend's house. But now I'm not sure."

The waitress arrives with their food and leaves quickly, noting the silent tension between the two of them.

"He calls me up and he says-

  
'hey, i've done something really dumb,' 

-and my stomach drops and I'm running through scenarios of what dreadful, illegal stunt he could have pulled, right? And so I ask him what he's done, fearing the worst... and he just says- 

'i'm fucking someone i probably shouldn't be fucking.'

-his words, exactly."  
  
Gaster grips his coffee cup so tightly it could break.

"And I asked who, and he says-

'you're not gonna be happy if i tell you.'

which, obviously, does not make me feel any better! And then he tells me to guess, to tell him what would upset me most, who I'd be least likely to approve of! That little- he takes after Verdana, I tell you what."

"What was your first guess?"

"I had to make sure it wasn't a minor, which thankfully rules out his brother. After that, I was kind of at a loss. If he wasn't breaking the law, why did he think I would care so much??? And while I'm freaking out, he says the fucking isn't the worst part, and at that point, I'm absolutely livid??? I asked how is that NOT the worst part?! and he tells me-

'i ended up falling for him, too. it's stupid and one-sided and nothing good's gonna come of it.'

and I can hear him choking back tears, and then he laughs and apologizes for being so dramatic and that he didn't mean to worry me... and I didn't know what to tell him! I still don't know who it was, or why he thinks I wouldn't approve... I'm scared to ask Verdana if she knows anything. I just... has he mentioned anything to you about someone he's seeing?"

Gaster's stomach turns. "No, no he hasn't."

She sighs and slumps back in her seat. "Do you think... I hate to ask this, but... do you think you could ask him about it, the next time you're out at the bar? I haven't been able to get ahold of him all day, and... I can't convince him not to drink, apparently, but if he's going to be, I figure maybe at least some good might come out of it..."

"I don't know if..."

"Please? I hate to get you involved in this, but he looks up to you. If he'd come clean to anyone about what's going on-"

"I highly doubt he'd be honest with me. But if it'll make you feel any better, I'll talk to him tonight, see if I can figure out what's going on."

"Thank you so much, Wingdings."

"It's not a problem at all. I... care about him and his wellbeing."

She smiles sadly at him. "I'm glad to hear that."

* * *

 

Sans drops his cellphone next to him on the sofa.

"Well, you sure pissed her off," June says with her arms crossed.

"Yeah, something tells me I'm gonna regret that in the morning. Maybe regret a lot of things."

"You think?"

"Not enough, apparently... it felt kind of nice getting that off my chest, though. Like, she tried to tell Paps and me that she'd love to meet anyone we're involved with. But... I don't think she meant it."

"I mean she probably did. I'm sure if you were in a stable, loving relationship full of communication and openness, she'd probably be ecstatic."

"Too bad that's not what this is."

"It could be, if you'd just-"

"Yeah, I get it, June. Gotta talk to him. Ruin what I've got for the sake of virtue."

"From the sound of it, you're going to be miserable either way."

He sighs, deep and heavy. "I should probably go. We've got work in the morning."

She pushes herself up off the arm of the couch. "You're going to help me clean this up first."

"How about I take my stuff home-"

"Sans..."

"-and thennnn, come back and help you clean up the rest?"

"Yeah, no."

By the time he gets home, he's exhausted. He flops into bed with his clothes still on and lies there, staring at the dark ceiling above him.

He lets himself imagine that Gaster's arms are wrapped around him, holding him close, and it's enough to help him drift off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should be the last! Then mayyyybe an epilogue??????


	22. Oh god how did this get here i am not good with computer

The open pools of magma scattered across Hotland are actually bright enough to cause permanent eye damage if you look at them for too long. Gaster knows this, but finds himself staring, nonetheless. It's medatative, watching the viscous liquid flow and bubble around itself. The surface never manages to cool fully before the hotter magma beneath rises to break it open. It's beautiful, a neverending cycle. He spends so long staring, lost in silent contemplation that he's late from his break by the time he returns to the lab.

Sans is right across the lobby, stirring a cup of coffee while Juneborg pours another. He feels a slight pang of jealousy, but quickly buries it, forcing himself to take a deep breath as he turns to grab his labcoat from the rack by the front entrance.

"Oh shit, the boss is back," Sans calls out loudly from behind him, "Guess we better get back to work."

"Or actually start working, in your case," June says smugly, "Come help me when you're done pretending to be busy, yeah?"

"I'll never stop pretending to be busy," Sans retorts.

They both chuckle. Gaster stares at the row of spare labcoats in front of him.

He waits until he hears the sound of the elevator closing behind her before he turns around. The lobby is empty, but he can hear movement in the upstairs office; the sound of a chair being pulled aside, of a coffee cup being set down. Sans must have teleported himself up.

Gaster has no such luxury. He marches up the stairs with forcibly calm footsteps, with a controlled, serene expression. Inside, his stomach feels like it's twisting around hot knives.

Sans looks to be in much the same state, once he's finally in the doctor's line of sight. He's standing near his desk, fist clenched so tight around the back of his chair that Gaster's sure either his hand or the chair is about to fracture.

"H-hey," he says, quietly, "I wasn't sure if you'd want me to finish what I was working on... I uh. I can be done with it in about twenty minutes, or I can leave now, if you want."

"I..." Gaster hesitates, breathless. He closes the distance between them until he's within arm's reach of his young lover. With a closer look, he can see Sans is trembling, probably using the chair to keep himself upright. "Why would you think I want you to leave?"

The lights in Sans's eyes slowly dim to nothing. "No reason," he says, his tone too casual for his expression. "How uh, how was your lunch?"

"Honestly? The food was a little dry. I don't think I'll be going to that cafe again by choice."

"...What did she have to say?" Sans presses, ignoring Gaster's attempt to lighten the mood.

The doctor sighs. "She's worried about you. And no wonder, when you call her up in the middle of the night to spew drunken riddles about your love-life. Any parent would be concerned."

"I wasn't spewing riddles."

"You were being cryptic enought that she asked me if I could pry out of you who it is that's causing you such grief. I'd really like to know, myself. Could some mysterious person be making you so unhappy that you-" Below them, Gaster can hear the sound of the elevator door opening, and one of their coworkers stepping out into the lobby. "Fuck," he spits, reaching up to rub his temples. His heart is racing, no matter how much he wills it to slow down. "Could we get out of here?" he pleads softly.

Sans looks pointedly at the floor, but extends an open hand toward the doctor, anyway. Gaster takes it and within two seconds, they've stepped into Gaster's own livingroom.

"Thank you," the doctor sighs, his heart finally calming itself a fraction. He gives Sans's hand a comforting squeeze. "Why don't we sit down, get comfortable, and just... discuss this?"

"I don't really think there's anything we need to discuss," Sans says calmly. The dark look of his eyes is unnerving, even to Gaster. "You gave me a rule, and I broke it."

Gaster scoffs, placing his other hand on Sans's shoulder. "I hardly care about that right now," he admits. "I'm more concerned with whatever the hell happened last night that led up to this whole mess."

The lights return to Sans's eyes, and Gaster's face warms when he feels the skeleton's grip on his hand tighten.

"I don't want to talk about this," Sans says flatly. Gaster's heart sinks. "I'd really love to just clean out my desk and go home."

"Oh, for- I'm not going to fire you over this! Just, please, tell me what's going on?"

"That's really unfair." The young skeleton pulls away. "You know that? You keep changing the rules on me. You said I shouldn't flirt with you, 'cause it's inappropriate, then you start flirting with me. You tell me this whole thing between us is trivial, that it wouldn't work out, and then you tell me you love me, and ask me to 'be yours' once we get to the surface? I- I spent this whole time feeling so guilty over falling for you, and you just... you were so affectionate, and I... God damnit." He covers his face with his hands, his breath shaking.

Gaster reaches forward tentatively, hoping to pull him close, and Sans takes a step back.

"You got to be the first to say it," Sans continues, his voice tight. "You weren't even worried what I might say in response. You uh. Heh. You really have the upper hand here, don't you?"

"I do," Gaster admits limply, leaving out that he spent the entire night worried about how Sans would respond. "I warned you about that."

"Yeah, I guess you did."

There is a moment of silence between them.

He holds his hands out, raising them slowly towards the young skeleton. "Come here, won't you?" he asks. It takes a moment, but Sans does so, letting himself be pulled into Gaster's embrace. He cradles Sans's jaw with his hands, leans down until he's close enough to feel the young skeleton's shaking breath against his lips. "I'm so sorry," he whispers as their mouths meet. Sans is shaking against him as they kiss, practically sobbing as Gaster leads him to the couch and pulls him into his lap.

The doctor does his best to soothe away Sans's fears, rubbing circles over his bones and kissing him gently. It doesn't help.

He dozes of at some point, and wakes with Sans in his arms, wrapped tightly around him. Gaster strokes his head gently and drifts back off feeling too warm and too tired to try moving either of them.

The second time he awakens, Sans is gone. Gaster calls out to him, with no response, no movement from the dark and empty house. His heart sinks as he rises from the couch, strectching and popping the aftermath of his sleeping position out of his old body. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, disappointed to find only a stern message from Larkeet about disappearing from work. He chucks his phone to the couch cushions and makes his way to the empty bedroom, arms wrapped around himself for warmth.

* * *

  
Sans is gone from the lab early the next morning, his desk cleared out save for a stack of unfinished paperwork left by his keyboard.

Gaster ignores the gap in their team to the best of his ability. He tosses the letter from King Dreemurr's treasury a week later, stating that the change in their finances has been noted, and his salary has returned to its former state. He shrugs off the questions from his team, especially from June, who's far too curious about their missing member for his liking. Doesn't she have Sans's number? She can ask him herself why he left.

His head begins to ache, and the days blur together. The cannon seems to assemble itself in the haze. He doesn't even remember working on it. They get the approval to fire, and finally begin moving it to the barrier.

He gets a text from Mollig, and he's surprised it took her so long to find out that Sans has left the lab. Though it's hard to pick up the intended tone of a text message, she seems upset. He decides to call her.

"Moll? Hello. Do you have some time to meet up and talk this evening?"

In fact, she does.

"I'm sorry I didn't get back to you sooner," he says, sincerely.

"It's fine," she replies, bitterly. "I'm sure things have been busy."

"They have."

"So busy you didn't notice one of your workers just stopped showing up to work."

"I noticed it the morning he left," Gaster admits.

"And you couldn't say something about it?" she asks, "after assuring me you'd look into what was going on with him, you couldn't even tell me that he'd quit working?"

"It was my fault, Moll. That was hard to face at the time." He takes a sip of his drink, savoring the way it burns his esophagus. He looks around, avoiding her eyes. The 173 is nearly empty, save for the two of them.

She folds her arms, looking remorseful. "Was he upset that you were prying into his personal life?"

"No, I don't think that was it. Has he spoken to you about any of what's happened?"

"Not since that night he called me up drunk," she sighs. "He's pretty good at avoiding any serious conversation. I've seen him a handful of times these past couple weeks, and he never answers me directly."

"I see." Gaster looks down into his glass, watching the ice swirl around and mix with the dark liquid around it. "I um. I suppose it's up to me to tell you, then."

"What happened, Wingdings?"

"Sans and I..." he takes a deep breath, tries to still his shaking voice, "We were involved... r-romantically. It um," he stares into the woodgrain of the table, his pulse rushing to his face, "it wasn't working out. Which was my fault, of course, but. Sans took his leave, probably because of that. I apologize, I truly cared for him, and had I known that he-"

Mollig cuts him off, rising from her seat.

"I'll be resigning afer we fire the cannon!" he assures her, still not meeting her gaze.

She leaves the bar without a word.

* * *

  
The blast from the cannon is loud enough to leave Gaster's ears ringing, drowning out the stunned silence around him as the barrier comes down before his eyes.

For the first time in weeks, his heart feels light, joyful even. He breaks into tears as his team comes together in an embrace of celebration.

True to his word, however, he resigns that day. News of his resignation is greatly overshadowed by the news that the barrier has fallen, that monsterkind is free at last. That's fine by him.

On the surface, he'll be able to slip away from all this.

* * *

 

Years pass by before he sees Sans again, scrolling through his news feed on a social media hub. Someone posted a picture of the young skeleton at his wedding, standing with one arm around the waist of an attractive young human. He's smiling more brightly than Gaster has ever seen.

It makes Gaster smile, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I really want to thank everyone who took the time to read this, even though the update schedule on it was hell, i hope the fic was worth it!   
> This is the ending I had planned from the beginning, but I kind of got lost on how to achieve it. Add to that some problems in my real-life relationships, and this kind of turned into a way of ironing out my feelings on shit that was going on. Sorry about that. :'-3  
> Thank you, again!


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